The Litany of the Elders
by Unusual Dispentry
Summary: Before he founded the Brotherhood of Steel, Captain Roger Maxson had an unshakeable bond with a fellow officer; they were brothers in all but blood. When the nukes destroyed almost everything he held dear, Maxson knew it was the tragic end of their relationship. Little did he know that his comrade-in-arms would go on to influence his order greatly... centuries after his own death.
1. Cocked Pistol

It was cold. _Freezing_ , more like. He expected to see an environment akin to the northern commonwealths, or the more unwelcoming parts of Canada. But instead, a vast, empty void welcomed him; his vision came across nothing but pure blackness.

"First sergeant, the truck's just arrived! Come on, wake the fuck up - the commies ain't gonna kill themselves!"

A sharp jolt of pain from the side of his face startled him wide awake. As his vision slowly gained clarity, he came to the realization that he had fallen asleep on a long journey via troop truck, and his platoon lieutenant had just taken the liberty of slapping him back to consciousness.

"Rise and _shiiine_ , ya lazy Polack pinko!" The Southern-accented CO stood tall with a smirk on his bearded face, snow goggles over his eyes and a winterized R91 assault rifle held in one hand. "Welcome to Alaska, soldier! Time to go kill us some scum-sucking, slit-eyed chinks!"

The soldier suddenly felt a horrible sense of dread. He blinked a couple of times, and much to his further surprise, he saw the environment shift before his very eyes.

Now, he was on the snow-caked ground, staring at the lieutenant's face. The man's goggles were cracked, exposing open, bloodshot eyes. His bloodied mouth hung ajar, forever twisted into an agonized, skyward scream.

All around, the sounds of frequent gunfire bursts and distant artillery explosions assaulted his ears, threatening to smother his hearing. The soldier pushed himself up from the ground, and instinctively brought his assault rifle to bear.

With no small amount of hesitation, he decided to pay his dead platoon leader a last, cursory glance. To his horror, he discovered the mangled remains of his entire platoon haphazardly strewn alongside the lieutenant, their blood having partially turned the white fields crimson red.

He felt angry at the sight. _Infuriated_ , more like. At that moment in time, he wanted nothing more than to eviscerate the men responsible for killing his fellow soldiers. Though before he could so much as take his first step forward, the distinctive thundering of Type 93 assault rifles firing in the distance forced him to hit the deck, straight onto the bloody snow.

As he felt the first bullets whizzing past his head, the soldier came to a grim realization: the Chinese were coming for him.

He frantically looked around for suitable cover, but found none in the empty, snowy field he was in. Cursing under his breath, he was forced to lay prone beneath the dead bodies of his comrades, using them for concealment. He held his breath and made not a sound as the moments passed by. His only action was to socket his field bayonet to the barrel end of his rifle.

After a little while, a six-man patrol of Chinese soldiers appeared in sight — far fewer than the enemy platoon the soldier expected. What's more, their stances were nervous and their faces were fresh and young; these men were quite clearly unprofessional conscripts.

One of them, the patrol leader, shouted a series of commands in his language and indicated at the gathered American corpses. He briefly then held up a hand and made some circling motions with his index finger, obviously motioning his squad regroup prior to investigate the area.

Figuring that he should seize the moment before he was discovered, the soldier pushed himself up to a kneeling position, with his gun already brought to bear on the closest enemy soldier. The conscript had barely any time to shout in alarm before he was perforated by an R91 rifle burst: three 5.56 caliber rounds precisely delivered to his torso.

Before the rest of the communists could even react to their comrade's body hitting the ground, the soldier had already switched targets and put two rounds in quick succession into the patrol leader's head. Having nothing but a shoddy ushanka to protect his skull, the man was dead even before the second round split his head wide open and spilled its contents into the snow.

The Chinese reacted with surprise at first, but with violence a second later. The soldier ducked down and pushed up a private's corpse to rest over the lieutenant, using them as improvised cover. The repetitive thudding of Type 93 rifles discharging in full-auto and the meaty thwacks signifying a successful hit on a corpse were all the sounds he heard during the fifteen seconds he spent huddling under the dead.

When the shooting stopped, the soldier knew it was time to strike. He crouched up from cover and sprayed wild, inaccurate fire, wounding a few conscripts and successfully killing one with two bullets to the chest and another through the head. He didn't stop to express his dismay when his rifle clicked empty, and instead, he launched himself forward into the fastest sprint he ever attempted in his life, holding his bayoneted rifle up like an improvised pike and bellowing a terrible war cry as he did so.

The undisciplined conscripts were surprised at the very least to see the lone American actually leaving cover to engage them in melee. One of them lost his nerve, dropped his gun and ran away, while the other two struggled to quickly reload their Type 93's.

The soldier made contact with the second to last conscript with the length of his bayonet through the man's stomach. The conscript screamed a shrilly death cry as the soldier cruelly twisted the blade sheathed inside of him. He was then put out of his misery when the American retracted his rifle and smashed the gun's alloy stock into his face.

As the dead man's body dropped to the ground, the soldier was already on the assault. Instead of sensibly choosing to just pull out his sidearm and shoot the last conscript from where he stood, the soldier charged his enemy, adrenaline coursing through his veins and bloodlust clouding his judgement.

He endeavored to inflict the cruelest of deaths upon his final foe... it was nothing less than what the commie bastard deserved.

The last, burly conscript had just finished reloading. He leveled his gun over at the charging, screaming American, but much to his dismay, the poor, mass-produced quality of his weapon caused it to promptly jam as he depressed the trigger.

On his end, the soldier quickly closed the remaining distance between himself and his foe. Once he was at melee range, he anticipated and ducked under a clumsy rifle swing from the conscript, and quickly retaliated by thrusting his gun upwards and spearing the man right through the gut, expecting him to go down just as easily as his comrade did before him.

Instead of that, the conscript held onto the R91's frame, and with all the strength and force he could muster, shoved back. The soldier felt all the air from his lungs escape his mouth as his own gun's metallic stock smashed into his ribs, causing him to stagger back, gasping for breath.

The conscript unsheathed the bayoneted rifle from his own stomach with a slight grunt before angrily throwing it away. The American had enough time to hear a furious, bellowing screech before he was hit by a crushing tackle from the conscript, causing him to crumple to the ground from the sheer brutish force delivered by his muscular foe.

The soldier endured having the life pounded from out of him with every heavy-handed strike from the angry communist straddling him. He held up his arms to defend himself, but the conscript was unrelenting; he regretted having spent an inordinate amount of time at the CP shooting range instead of the gym. Salvation only came when the conscript held back his fist and briefly stopped for breath.

Ever the opportunist, the soldier suddenly clouted the conscript squarely by the jaw, leaving him too stunned to avoid getting a padded knee delivered to his vulnerable nether regions. The conscript howled in agony, and the soldier was completely free to hold the conscript by his tactical harness to force him to the ground, essentially switching positions with his foe.

While the conscript was still trying to recover, the soldier had already unclipped the entrenching tool hanging from his belt. Baring his teeth, he hoisted the steel implement up in the air and bludgeoned the conscript's head once, drawing blood from his mouth and knocking a couple of teeth out from the sheer force of the blow.

"Yankee, w-wait!" The conscript finally spoke in stilted, heavily-accented English.

Consumed in murderous, uncontrollable rage, the soldier held up the tool once again and delivered another strike, audibly fracturing the skull and knocking the conscript's goggles away, revealing young eyes slanted in palpable terror.

"Stop!"

The soldier screamed like a wild animal as he smashed the shovel against the conscript's face with all his might. The heavy-handed blow splattered blood just _everywhere_ ; it hideously disfigured the conscript's face and caved the front of his skull inwards. By now, it seemed cruel to let such a wretched creature continue living.

"Please..."

The soldier raised the entrenching tool, hovering it just over his vanquished adversary's exposed throat blade first. Channeling all his anger and hate into one final strike, he plunged the tool downwards.

* * *

"Monsieur?"

He awoke from his dream to the sound of rain and a running engine. The taxi seat was too soft and comfortable; he was lulled to sleep almost immediately after the cab started moving.

"Here is a telephone, as you requested." The driver, one of the only few dozen of his kind in the entirety of north-central France thanks to the nightmarish shortage of natural gas in the planet, gestured outside the cab, towards a phone booth near a disused alleyway.

James Kryger, a major in the United States military, ground his teeth in concentration as he briefly studied the area, looking for anything unusual.

"Thanks, this'll do nicely enough." He replied in the man's tongue. "How much was the fare?" He almost dreaded to ask.

"That's the most intelligible French I've heard from a Yank in a while." The driver grumbled. "Not that that's saying much, though. Eleven-thousand francs, if you'd please."

Kryger frowned at that. " _Just_ eleven thousand? I was expecting to shell out at least _twenty-five_."

"Nuclear-powered reactor, my friend. No gas, only nuclear energy." The driver affectionately patted his car's steering wheel. "How else do you think I can still drive this cab around? Before all traffic in Europe stopped moving around seventeen years ago, I had the sense of mind to predict that I'll have to stop relying on fuel just to keep on driving, so I "commissioned" a reactor from my smuggler friend in the Corsican black market. It cost me a fortune and my left testicle, but hey, I can still drive."

"Fascinating story." Kryger faked interest as he handed over the cash. "But... do wait here for a moment, sir. I'll be needing another ride to the airport in a moment."

"Hmm-hm." The driver dismissively nodded as the major disembarked from the vehicle. "For your own safety, do hurry up, will you? Unlike me, most other Parisians don't take too kindly to Americans because of what soldiers like you did to Cana—"

"Duly noted." The major closed the car door shut before the man could prattle on. He made his way to the phone booth, ignoring the rain and wind.

After paying the hefty fee and dialing in a number for an overseas call, Kryger pulled up his sleeve and stole a quick glance at his watch as he waited for the person at the other end of he line to receive.

 **FRI, 22/10/2077|4:43PM CET**

He was briefly confused at the date format, until he remembered that the watch was a gift from his extended family in Warsaw. He considered resetting the settings to match the American date format, when the distinct sound of the telephone being picked up registered in his hearing.

"Mariposa United States R&D Installation, this is Roger Maxson on the line..." The person spoke up, somewhat glumly, as Kryger was quick to observe. He also took careful note of how Maxson neglected to mention anything about his rank of captain, as was usual. "Who is this I'm speaking to? Is this the Army?"

"Well, aren't you the master of the obvious." Kryger lightheartedly snarked. "Roger, it's me, Jimmy. Got a minute to talk?"

Captain Maxson seemed to gain a little speck of energy when he heard the major's distinctive, slightly Bostonian-accented voice. "Major Jim Kryger? Jesus, it's been, what, seven months since last we talked! I heard from the brass that you're in Europe on diplomatic duties with an ambassador!"

"Yeah, Ambassador Richards and I just parted company recently. The mission's a bust." Kryger said. "Britain, Switzerland, Poland-Lithuania, Germany, Norway and France — in that order — have all rejected to side with us in our war with the PRC until we start selling natural gas to them again... even though they know just how close the president is to escalating alertness to DEFCON 2."

He grimaced. "And it's much worse down here in France: President Mélenchon is threatening to cut diplomatic ties with the US in light of our recent... ahem, _activities_... up north. He thinks we're no worse than the Nazis, for God's sake."

"Ah, what else is new? The fact that you even came to Switzerland to convince the "neutral" bastards to do anything should've convinced you that your efforts were already in vain." Maxson seemed only a little displeased at the news. He actually seemed resigned. "It's all coming apart, James. Everything is coming apart."

"Our visit here wasn't _completely_ pointless, though." Feeling that he's driving his old friend further into depression, Kryger figured he should change to a more uplifting facet of his trip to Europe.

"The Soviet premier agreed to pitch in with the States against the PRC in exchange for nuclear reactor schematics and power armor prototypes. Ambassador Richards liked the deal — he even agreed to let more delegates from the USSR inside our little Vault project at home."

"Well, that's reassuring. Who's to say the chummy commies won't turn on us after we're done with the Chinese?" Maxson seemed ever the pessimist. "Look, James, my men and I have just witnessed some godawful, _extremely_ fucked-up shit down here in Mariposa, and frankly, I don't have the stomach for any more bad news. Did you ring me just to—"

"I called you up because I wanted to hear from an old friend. What sort of fucked-up shit are we talking about here, Roger?" Kryger interjected. "Chinese-American internment camps? Starving civilians? Canadian rioters getting executed in the streets?"

Captain Maxson sighed. "Much, _much_ worse than the standard fare, I'm afraid to say. Listen, I don't know if you've heard what I told the top brass two days ago, and I'm not completely sure if you'll be able to understand why, but the things I've seen in the past few days convinced me of something."

Kryger was silent for a long while, enough to convince Maxson that he hung up. "...I'm listening, captain, go on."

"I'm not a captain anymore, James... at least, I think so. The sheer amount of bullshit our so-called "leaders" have been ordering us to pull off and their blatant misapplication of military technology cannot be allowed to continue. Let's face the facts — the United States is doomed to an undignified death by nuclear fire if men like us continue to carry out orders from the clueless, ignorant man-children in Washington."

"So... I'm guessing that two days ago, you and your men deserted from the army." Major Kryger correctly guessed. "What did High Command say over the radio?"

"You know me too much, Jim. Yes, we deserted. And I wish I can give you a proper answer to that — the brass didn't even give us the common courtesy of a response. We got nothing but static, and no one's come to take Mariposa back from us yet."

Kryger narrowed his eyes. "Roger, I don't know what kind of skeletons you've discovered in that particular government closet, but are you sure it's bad enough to warrant desertion?"

"Oh, it's bad, Jim. Just... terrible." Maxson started, seemingly reluctant to recall the things he witnessed just two days prior. "It spoke volumes of the president and his toadies in Washington and the Pentagon, really. It revealed to me just how low our government is willing to go in order to win this godforsaken war."

The former US Army captain seemed to pause to take a drink out of a flask. "I mean, I've seen plenty of inhuman things done by man against his fellow man, and with a résumé like yours, I'm sure you've seen a lot of shit too. But believe me when I tell you that they're _nothing_ compared to what the Mariposa science team did. You know anything about the Forced Evolutionary Virus — FEV?"

The major frowned. "I... might've come across a file of it when it was still in the PVP development phase. Why?"

"Yeah, as it turns out, the Pentagon wants to develop the FEV as a bioweapon against the Chinese. The virus turns American soldiers into big, hulking masses of green muscle, capable of killing several times their number in PRC troops before succumbing. Problem is, the tests don't always go as planned."

"I've seen the project results on animals, but I haven't seen the virus' effects on humans." Kryger said. "What did you see?"

"It's disgusting, major. The Mariposa science team had been using "volunteers" for test subjects. I've seen dissidents, internees, Canadian guerrillas, POWs captured in Alaska and even Army defectors go through the labs and come out as mutated blobs of limbs, tongues and mottled flesh... "centaurs", as the men have taken to calling these rejects— these poor, unfortunate victims of rampant technological misuse."

"I see. Where are these scientists now?"

"Where they belong: Hell." Maxson decisively answered. "Just before I had the cowards all executed, they told me they were just following orders from the Pentagon. Bah, I've heard war criminals make better excuses for atrocities."

Kryger heaved a sigh, "Alright, I understand why you deserted. Still, why are you telling me all this? Aren't you worried I might take a couple of battalions tomorrow and retake the base from you?"

"You're my brother, James." Maxson replied, rather simply. "We've been watching each other's backs from high school, to West Point, to Anchorage, to Canada and to the Chinese mainland itself. I know your true loyalty lies with the Army, but I know you won't do me harm. Were our situations reversed, I'll do the same for you."

"Indeed..." The major thoughtfully nodded. "Roger, I'm going to have to call you later — we'll take more about this at a later date. And for our sakes, I do hope you change your mind about leaving the Army, or the brass never gets to hear of your desertion... I'd really hate to kill you."

Maxson forced out a chuckle. "And if you ever change your mind about serving war criminals and blind idiots, don't hesitate to call this line. Goodbye, James."

"I hope we meet again under better circumstances." Kryger quickly worded out before he cut the line and hung up the phone.

"What have you done, Maxson?" He muttered to himself.

For a long while, he just stood there, soaking up the polluted Parisian rain. "What have you done?"

The cab driver pulled down his car window. "Monsieur? If you're finished with your call, we should really get going now before the local gangs see your uniform."

Kryger recomposed himself. "Just a moment, I have one last call to make."

"Your funeral, my friend." The driver pulled up his window again. Kryger tried to keep an even face as he turned around, picked up the phone, paid the seven-hundred francs needed for another international call and dialed in a new number.

"Kryger residence. This is Kathérine speaking." The woman on the other line said.

After a long period of separation due to his duties, Kryger felt somewhat relieved to hear his wife's voice once again. "Hey, Kath."

The woman gasped. "James! I was just wondering what you're up to. Is everything fine on your end?"

"It's rainy and cold out here in your town, but I'm alright with it. How's Shaun?"

"He's doing great! Codsworth made sure of that... but did you just say you are in France right now?"

"Yeah. Paris _,_ to be more exact." Kryger said. "Listen, I visited your parents' address in Brittany yesterday. I told them I've already taken the liberty of reserving spots for all of them in Vault 111 and they should come with me to Boston later today just in case. Your dad, however, refused to leave the country for anything."

"Papa's a good man, but he can be quite stubborn at times, as you well know." Kathérine snickered at the memories of her youth, her choice of a career, and even her wedding. Her father objected to many things she took a shine to.

"Yeah, I still remember the "speech" he made at our wedding reception. I have nightmares about it every night." The major smiled a little. "Still, while it's disappointing that they turned me down, I'm sure we won't need to use the Vault. This mess would be over soon, Kath."

"I hope so. When are you coming home? I'm starting to miss you."

"Actually, the general had just given me a month of paid leave in exchange for attending a veterans' little get-together tomorrow. This afternoon, I'll be taking a flight straight to Boston as soon as I get to the local airport."

"That's awfully nice of dear old Chase." Kathérine spoke in an overly sweet, highly-sarcastic tone. "I bet he wants to repay you for taking the title "Hero of Anchorage" from its rightful owner."

"I wouldn't want the publicity anyway. The old man can have all of it for all I care." Kryger replied dismissively. "I'll see you soon, love. Say hello to Shaun for me."

* * *

"—was serving as a T-45a power-armored platoon leader when his unit began an assault on a heavily fortified Chinese compound just southwest of Cooper's Landing on December 21, 2072. At the very tip of his platoon's spearhead formation, 1st Lieutenant James Kryger ordered his unit to a halt when he heard the subtle buzzing of enemy cloaking modules powering up. After telling his men to switch to thermal vision, 1st Lieutenant James executed a sudden bayonet charge, completely surprising the Chinese elite commandos in their midst and successfully dispatching all thirty-nine of them after a bitter, bitter fight in extremely close quarters. 1st Lieutenant James shows extreme..."

Kryger was growing tired of hearing General Constantine Chase reciting his many accomplishments during his third tour of Alaska. He had grown to dislike the attention his supposedly extraordinary feats brought whenever he was given leave to go home, especially when army recruitment posters have started using his name and likeness to motivate young men to enlist.

It wasn't his fault that medals and promotions were being thrown his way by the truckloads because of his uncanny knack for thriving in grim odds and the droves of senior officers steadily being killed off in battle.

"...and it is with great pleasure that I hereby bestow upon him for his conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty, our nation's highest military honor: the Congressional Medal of Valor." Chase grandly declared. "The inspiring leadership and heroic aggressiveness displayed by 1st Lieutenant James upheld the highest..."

Kryger would've turned down the award just so he could avoid hearing Chase's oratory voice, if it weren't for his family overseas pressuring him to accept it. He calmly waited until the trenchcoated old man with a stogie walked up and placed the medal around his neck and pinned the requisite ribbon to his chest.

"You've done this country proud, son." Chase smirked, revealing teeth yellowed by decades of frequent tobacco abuse. "Congratulations. Thank you for your service."

"The pleasure's all mine, general." The lieutenant took the man's offered hand and shook it, just as the gathered audience of civilians and military personnel alike started cheering and clapping.

Barely ten minutes later, Kryger was already sitting behind a desk in an interview room Chase set up for him, forcing his eyes to condition themselves to frequent camera flashes.

Several men in suits — government officials, journalists and other "important" people, by the looks of them — have come to each have a few words and a picture taken with him. He tried to look as happy and willing as he could, but after a few dozen people in, his enthusiastic facade started to crumble.

"How did it feel when you've held a dying soldier in your arms, futilely trying to staunch his bleeding while desperately calling for a medic?" A grizzled, older-looking man who was very obviously a veteran film director, asked another of his inane questions.

"For the last time, sir, I never did any of that while in Alaska." Kryger droned in a flat, emotionless monotone.

"Nonsense! All Medal of Valor recipients have each held a dying comrade in their arms at least once during their tours." The director haughtily exclaimed in an obnoxious New Jersey intonation. "Can't you remember _anyone_ you've held as they lay bleeding to death? There was a lot of blood, right?"

"Oh, of course. How could I forget." The lieutenant's expression was that of utter boredom, and his voice was completely deadpan. "I felt my whole world crumbling as I tried in vain to shove his insides back into his stomach. He then reached out and whispered to me, compelling me to tell his mother how he did his best. I screamed into the air when he finally stopped breathing, and then it started to rain... for some reason. Also, yes... there was a lot of blood. By the gallons. Happy?"

"More than happy. This is... this is _perfect!"_ The director seemed to choke back a sob as he dutifully scribbled down notes on a tiny scrap of paper. He stood up, looking satisfied. "Thank you for your service, lieutenant. God bless you." He saluted Kryger with the wrong hand.

"Yes, yes... next!" Deeply irritated, Kryger dismissed the impudent man, who was promptly escorted out of the room by two soldiers. His next company was a raven-haired, green-eyed woman of short stature, outfitted in full photojournalist gear.

"Lieutenant James Kryger, I've been following your war exploits closely. It's an honor to finally meet you in person." The woman said as she took a seat across the lieutenant's desk. Her way of speaking betrayed her European origins — French, to be more precise.

"Congratulations on your award... it's fortunate that the president himself took notice of your actions in Alaska; I doubt General Chase would have the humility to give you _some_ credit for taking the fight to the PLA."

"Thank you." Kryger nodded as he adopted the most diplomatically neutral face he could muster. "Since we're off to a decent-ish start, I'll pretend I didn't hear your previous statement about my superior officer. Now, what do you wish to talk about, ma'am?"

"Ah, well as you can see from what I took to wearing, you might have guessed that I work for a certain... foreign news agency. I'm trying to compile a story on the ongoing Anchorage Reclamation, and I feel that I should hear all about the conflict from none other than you: the man who killed the infamous General Jingwei."

Kryger frowned as he shook his head. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but as a foreign agent, I cannot provide you with information concerning the conflict in Alask—"

He then realized something. "Hey, wait a tick. Are you perhaps Kathérine Saunier, from the Paris Héraut paper agency? Chase himself actually warned me about meeting you here, you know."

"Really, now...?" The woman inclined an inquisitive brow. "And what did the old man say about me?"

"He said he should have his men arrest and deport you from the country for allegedly infiltrating his Oregon estate after bypassing the perimeter security. He's also more than a little pissed at you for contributing to a major smear campaign against him." Kryger answered frankly, neglecting to add the copious amount of profanity Chase used. "I couldn't care less about the latter, but did you really sneak into his home?"

"I... uh," She hesitated. "...might have... _accidentally_ stumbled into his house... completely by chance, of course."

"You might've also "accidentally" stolen his personal journal and several other classified documents from his study room, need I mention. And if I could hazard a guess from the discarded roll of film found inside the house, you probably have taken a few dozen unauthorized pictures, too..."

Kryger smirked as the woman sank further and further into her seat. "I'd have you pegged as a PRC spy if I didn't know any better, but I do recognize a person being uncommonly dedicated to her job when I see one. Question is, why are you doing all this, ma'am?"

At this, Kathérine seemed to gain focus. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you this, but General Chase is slime, lieutenant. He's not even a very good military leader and yet, he keeps on taking credit from the soldiers under him. If America seeks to prevail against China, I think the general should be replaced with someone less vain and a lot more competent."

"Shush! Keep your damn voice down." He ordered under his breath, to which the photojournalist meekly nodded. "You know an awful lot about the war in Alaska for a foreigner, even with the general's journal and those documents in your possession."

"I do a lot of hands-on research unlike most journalists these days." The woman lightheartedly boasted. "Going through people's dirty laundry is an activity I excel at, I'm proud to say."

"And I'm sure you won't get a lot of fans in Washington with _that_ set of skills." The lieutenant grimly muttered to himself. "Tell you what, let me inform you that I share some of your sentiments about General Chase, and Anchorage Command in general. I feel that the ground-pounders in Alaska should get more recognition from the media."

"Then help me out, lieutenant! I'll make sure soldiers like yourself get all the credit they deserve not just in America, but overseas as well!" Kathérine pleaded.

Kryger sighed, "I'm not too keen on the extra publicity myself, but I'll help you out for the sake of my unsung brothers." Though before his guest could celebrate in triumph, he stopped her dead in her tracks with a pointed glare.

" _But_ , I have three things I need you to understand before I can agree to anything. One, I'll never divulge highly-classified information such as troop movements, planned operations, weapon developments and the like. Two, I'm going to need Chase's journal _and_ those documents back in the exact same quality as they were before you got your mitts on them..."

The lieutenant quickly checked to make sure the photojournalist was still listening. "...and three, you're gonna have to make the deal worth my while. The brass will have me hanged, drawn and quartered if they found out I've been giving info to a civilian journalist without express authorization you see... and they'll probably do much, much worse if they found out that she's also from a European paper agency."

"Your first two terms are fair... I like them." The woman smiled, nodding. "But what are you willing to trade in exchange for the information I seek? I'm afraid I don't have much money with me now; I'm almost broke after four months of traveling all around the commonwealths."

Kryger chuckled at that. "Ah, you must've mistaken me for corrupt, Ms. Saunier. I've no need for cash."

"Then... is there something... specific, you needed from me?"

The lieutenant saw the faint spark in Kathérine's eyes, but he quickly disregarded it. He wasn't the kind of person for such games. "Hmm... you know, I've almost completely forgotten my high school level language classes. How about I trade you Anchorage intel for regular lessons in French? We can teach each other — I still know quite a bit of Polish and Lithuanian from my immigrant parents."

He could practically feel the warmth and joy radiating from the woman when she beamed at him. "We have a deal then, Lieutenant Kryger! I'm glad we've reached an agreement. When and where should we meet?"

"Eh, tomorrow at eleven-hundred hours should be fine. Can you travel to Sanctuary Hills in Boston? My exact address is in this card." He took out one of his spare business cards from his coat pocket and handed it over to the photojournalist.

She briefly examined it. "Yes... yes, I think I can. We'll see each other tomorrow, yes?" She extended a hand for the lieutenant to take.

"If the weather's lovely and I'm in the mood, yeah." He smiled as he shook her hand. "Wait a minute, can you hear that mechanical beeping?"

Kathérine blithely continued shaking Kryger's hand, her expression blank and unnerving. "You have a veterans' meeting scheduled in three hours, James. Wake up."

He inclined his head to the side, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"Come on, James. It's time to wake up."

* * *

"Have you changed your mind about attending, love?"

Kryger slipped back into consciousness to the sound of an alarm clock beeping. Opening his eyes, sitting up and looking briefly around, he was somewhat relieved to find out that he was at home in Sanctuary Hills, lying in his bed.

"Is everything alright?"

He swiveled his head to face Kathérine Saunier-Kryger, his wife of three years and the mother of his son, Shaun Kryger. She wasn't clothed except for a towel wrapped all over her body and her dark hair glinted in the sunlight.

"Hmm, it's okay, I'm fine." He silenced the alarm.

"Then you should hurry up and get yourself presentable, hero." She adopted a smirk. "General Chase will have your hide if he heard you didn't attend."

"Don't remind me." He grumbled as he got off of bed and suntered off into the living room. Merely a couple of seconds in, he promptly ran across the house's resident Mister Handy robotic butler, generously donated by the patriotic folks at General Atomics for services rendered to the country.

"Pleasant morning, major!" Codsworth floated up to and cordially greeted his master as he slowly walked by. "I never had the chance to ask you last night because I figured you were tired after your flight from the Old World, but I must ask, how _was_ your mission to Europe? Have you been to England, by any chance?" The Mister Handy extended one of his limbs, handing over a steaming mug of coffee for Kryger to take.

Kryger took the mug and gently stirred it with the little spoon it came with. "I've been to England, yes, but the mission... it didn't end as well as we hoped, Codsworth." He took his usual spot on the couch, facing the television.

"Ah, but you can't succeed _every_ time, couldn't you, major?" Codsworth vocalized a tinny little laugh. "But what of England, then? Did you meet the king while you're there? I do so hope he's doing okay without his cars..."

"Huh. I've some bad news for you, buddy. Apparently, the current prime minister's predecessor had gotten rid of the British monarchy two years ago because Henry XIII stirred up a violent revolt and tried to turn the UK back into a despotic, hereditary kingdom."

Kryger shook his head and shrugged as he took a sip out of his mug. "King Henry is now just a nameless prisoner from the abolished House of Windsor."

"They... they actually dismantled the monarchy?! Oh, such a shame!" The robot dramatically exclaimed in extreme dismay. "A pity that we don't have much media coverage of the Isles anymore... I would've known about this sooner and then maybe I wouldn't have been so surprised!"

"Times are changing." The major said with a grimace. The sugar rationing was taking its toll on his early morning coffee. "And not for the better."

"Not for the _bitter_ indeed, sir." The robotic butler just couldn't resist.

Kryger tried to visibly cringe, but he actually laughed at that. "Never change, Codsworth."

Suddenly, an infant's wail was heard throughout the house, interrupting the usual morning news broadcast.

"I'll tend to Master Shaun, sir!" Codsworth piped up before Kryger could even react. "You just relax, goodness knows how much you needed rest after kicking so many commie tails!" Kryger quietly watched as Codsworth floated off in his usual chipper manner, humming to the tune of "Rule, Britannia!".

Just as the Mister Handy departed, Kathérine appeared from the master bedroom, having finished dressing up in a black formal dress to accompany her husband to the veterans' meeting.

"Have you heard about what happened to the Jaoming family from just across the street?" She asked.

Kryger lowered the volume on the television as he turned to regard her.

"While I was in Norway, I heard they've started boarding their house and amassing guns. Why, something bad happened to them now?"

"I saw the whole thing from the windows upstairs, it was terrifying." Kathérine set herself some tea and turned on the gramophone as she talked. "The National Guard actually got a tank and soldiers in power armor to intimidate the Jaomings into getting out of their fortress. I heard they're in an internment camp in New Mexico now, after having been suspected as Chinese spies."

Kryger stared into his coffee for a long, uncomfortably silent while as an old Edith Piaf song echoed from the gramophone. He remembered Maxson telling him about internees and other undesirables being used by the government for experiments of extremely unethical nature, and if the horrid stories he described were indeed true, the Jaomings would've been better off executed instead of interned.

Shaking his head from the clouds, Kryger gulped down the mug and stood up. "...I'm gonna use the shower. Can you tell Codsworth to bring my BDU over?"

Kathérine placed her hands on her hips. "A battledress uniform, really? You're not going off to war again today, James. I'll let Codsworth with Shaun and get you some _real_ clothes befitting of your rank."

Arguing with her was pointless, Kryger reasoned. Without complaint, he turned and headed off to the shower. The water was frigidly cold thanks to the damnable energy rationing, but Alaska taught him to resist much lower temperatures. Before long, there was a knock on the bathroom door.

"James, I've got your ceremonial dress uniform!" His wife called out outside.

Kryger finished up and covered himself with a towel. When he opened the door, he had to mentally stop himself from covering his face with his palm.

"I'm saving that for my funeral, Kath..." He scratched his stubbly chin as he examined the uniform and coat he was being offered.

"And you'd make for a ruggedly handsome corpse in this outfit." She adopted a sly grin as she pushed his clothes to his chest. "Come now, there's no need to be modest; this'll look great on you. When was the last time you wore something that caught the ladies' eyes?"

He grumbled as he took hold of the set of clothes he was offered. "I've never worn anything more decorated than a gilded suit of power armor in a ceremonial detail once, and I _still_ caught your eye."

"Yes, but it was a slow process. It took me a year to realize how good you look in uniform!" She giggled as he blushed at the memory. "Just put that on and let's see the results, okay? Do this for me, James."

"Ach, very well..." He was disgusted at how easily he was talked into things by his wife. "I suppose since I'm going to wear this, I might as well go all the way."

Kathérine faked obliviousness. "Oh, Major Kryger. Whatever could you mean by that?"

"Such impatience..." Kryger shook his head as he held the bathroom door partially closed. "Wait until I get dressed and away from all the water. I'm not in the mood to be electrocuted."

His wife surprised him by pushing the door shut for him. "Get to it then, soldier! Don't keep your lady waiting!"

Thus after a period of five minutes getting into his clothes, the major stepped out of the door looking positively grand in his new outfit: a dark green army officer's uniform with an LAS008-pattern armored greatcoat worn over it, complimented by a military peaked cap perched atop his head.

The full outfit itself would've looked modest enough by itself, but the sheer amount of decorations it came equipped with such as a golden pair of epaulettes and the requisite aiguillette on the coat, an officer's sash worn diagonally across the chest over the uniform itself, and the obligatory rows of service ribbons over his breast have all left a bitter taste in Kryger's mouth.

"So..." He faked an earnest smile as he stood in front of Kathérine to be examined. "How do I look?"

"Ouah..." Kathérine gaped at the sight of her husband. He looked like a completely different person in his ceremonial dress. "...Why didn't I make you wear this outfit a lot more often? You look like someone straight out of the Napoleonic era!"

"Or a goose-stepping fascist." The major snarked. "I suppose I should get the—"

Codsworth suddenly pivoted around a corner, holding what appeared to be a curved, ceremonial sabre sheathed in a gilded scabbard in one of his mechanical limbs. "Sorry, sir, but my processors just couldn't help but overhear your little conversation with mum! Needless to say, I took the liberty of retrieving this," He extended the sheathed blade for his master to take. "-for you from the armory in the basement. You're welcome!"

Kryger slowly received the blade. "I appreciate it, Codsworth, but you should handle this thing with a lot more care next time. Need I remind you, this is no ordinary sword — it's not even ceremonial. It's a reverse-engineered, officer's sabre-styled copy of General Jingwei's shocksword."

"Not to worry, sir. I treated the blade with the utmost care and vigilance. Why, it would appall me so if my circuits were abruptly shorted in the line of duty — Master Shaun hasn't even reached maturity yet!" The Mister Handy chuckled heartily.

The doorbell rang, all the sudden.

"I'll get it." Kryger clipped the sword to his belt, completing his outfit. He walked up to the door and answered it, revealing a middle-aged man in a yellow Vault-Tec overcoat and hat.

"Major Kryger! I didn't expect to see you home!" The Vault-Tec sales representative greeted him with an overly sunny grin. Kryger had known long ago that this cheerful demeanor of his was a facade. "Heh, nice outfit! Heading off to another ceremonial detail, are you?"

"Mr. Beckett." The major extended his glove-covered hand for the other man to shake. Privately, he wished to be rid of the uppity man's company soon. "It's good to see you again, but haven't we already sorted out the forms for my family's reservations to Vault 111?"

Representative Beckett politely shook the major's hand. "That's correct, but the overseer requires one final thing before your reservations could be finalized. You just need to fill this out, and your family's all set for the future!" He pulled out a hefty-looking form and handed it over for Kryger to fill out.

"Hmm, and you're sure about that?" The major pulled out a pen and looked over the stack of Vault-Tec paperwork.

"Well, even if you didn't have the foresight to pre-emptively reserve a spot in the Vault, your extensive, highly distinguished service to the country would've already seen you and your family reserved a spot automatically!" Ever full of false cheer, Beckett replied.

"Heh heh... even your eurotrash wife." He added under a breath, as if not counting on the other man to hear it.

Kryger, however, had to sharpen his senses just to stay alive in Alaska. Upon hearing Beckett, he suddenly stopped, visibly flinching. After a short while, he pocketed his pen and looked to the Vault-Tec rep, his expression blank and unreadable.

"Mr. Beckett, can you take a closer look at this sentence here?" He held up the form for the representative to see as he subtly took a step back into the house. "There must be an error while printing this form — I can't decipher the writing."

"Err, what?" Beckett climbed the front porch steps and leaned into the doorway to get a better view of the fine print. "Let me see th—"

Kryger suddenly retracted the form, took hold of the doorknob, and with all the strength and force he could summon, rammed the door straight onto Beckett's face as he leaned forward.

Kathérine and Codsworth were immediately roused by the loud thud of the impact. Both went over to the door just in time to see Kryger holding the door open, with Representative Beckett sprawled on his back at the front porch, writhing in agony.

"Uppity xenophobic bastard," Kryger spat onto the ground, near Beckett's feet. "Call my wife that again, and I'll break more than just your teeth and nose. Get the fuck out of my yard."

"Good lord." If Codsworth had hands and a mouth, he'd be using the former to cover the latter in sheer mortification.

"James..." Kathérine approached her husband and placed a calming hand on his tensed shoulder.

Representative Beckett spent a few more seconds pathetically rolling on the ground and wiping the blood trailing from his nose and mouth before picking himself up.

"You'll regret this, you retarded Polack! I'll report this incident to make sure you and your commie-loving family are barred from entering every goddamn Vault in the whole fucking country!" He cursed at the major as he scooped up his suitcase and hobbled off.

"When the nukes come, I hope you all fucking BURN in nuclear fire!" He shouted one final time as he disappeared from sight around a corner, but Kryger had already slammed the door shut on him moments ago.

"Good riddance." The major scoffed. Kathérine and Codsworth stared at him in silence as he nonchalantly went back to business, filling out the forms Beckett left behind.

"Sir, if I may," Codsworth talked a bit hesitantly. "While that man probably deserved to get his nose bashed inwards, don't you think what you did was a little... unwise?"

"That rep might just go through with his threat, James." Kathérine worriedly added. "I'm already used to people treating me like filth after hearing me talk and the neighbors giving me pointed looks or accusing me of being a spy. You... shouldn't have done that."

It was times like these that Kryger seriously considered resigning from the army and moving away from this country of jingoistic xenophobes and self-righteous warmongers. But then, he remembered that everywhere else around the world, things were very much the same, if not even worse.

Not one corner of the Earth remained pure and innocent nowadays. Ever since the Middle East ran out of oil and the European Commonwealth disbanded, the entire civilized world was progressively losing itself to greed, prejudice and darkness.

Kryger closed his eyes and sighed. "I know Vault-Tec; my mother used to work there as an office worker. Like her back in those days, Beckett is just an expendable asset — to be used and discarded as the company directors saw fit."

He opened his eyes and adopted his usual confident, steely expression. "That man cannot—"

"Uhm, sir..." Kryger turned on his heel to see Codsworth floating just in front of the television set. "I think you should come and see this! Mum, too!"

Kathérine was slow to react, but Kryger was quickly at the butler's side, knowing that something must indeed be very wrong if Codsworth wasn't his usual, chipper self.

"—followed by... yes, flashes — followed by lightning flashes. Sounds of... explosions." The news anchor on the TV screen was obviously profusely sweating despite the typically poor quality of the broadcast. "We're, uh, trying to get confirmation."

"What?" Kathérine's eyes were wide open, and her stance was as nervous as the man behind the screen. "Is he... is he talking about... oh." She covered her mouth with her free hand as the major continued watching the broadcast, grinding his teeth in fearful anticipation.

Could it be? Could it really be the end of all things by nuclear fire and radiation?

The anchor swiped his forehead and took a quick sip out of a nearby glass of water. "We've seem to have lost contact with all affiliate stations... we do— we do have coming in... it's uh," He involuntarily sighed, interrupting himself. "...confirmed reports, I repeat, confirmed reports of n-nuclear detonations in New York... and Pennsylvania..."

"M-my God..." The man on the screen covered his face with his hands and dejectedly leaned into his desk, just before the broadcast was abruptly cut to static. Immediately afterwards did the couple hear vertibirds circling the air, followed by the emergency sirens.

"Oh... oh _no._ " Kathérine dropped her teacup in shock.

Kryger took her by the shoulder and locked eyes with her — focused, steely gray orbs staring into panicked, fear-stricken green.

"Kath, we need to get to the Vault. _Now_." He gave her a rough shake. "Let's go get Shaun. Codsworth, can you see if it's clear outside?"

"Will do, major!" The Mister Handy unit quickly floated off out the door as Kryger and Kathérine hurried off and retrieved their son together. Kathérine was was forced to hold the infant in her arms when Kryger diverted his course to quickly snatch his service pistol from the basement downstairs.

When the young family regrouped and vacated out of their house, the full extent of the chaos wrought on by imminent nuclear annihilation greeted them.

"Sir, mum, you need to get to the Vault, quickly!" Codsworth navigated the sea of panicking civilians and soldiers marching to get to his masters. "My sensors have found no sign of communists around, and you should have a clear path to Vault 111 if you hurry!"

"Shaun will miss you." Kathérine's held back tears. "We will miss you."

Kryger placed a hand over Codsworth's chrome central body. "All those NBC modifications I built into your chassis should keep you safe and sound while you wait for us to return, so don't be sad, Codsworth. This isn't goodbye." He retracted his hand.

"If— if you say so, s-sir." As if Mister Handies were even capable of crying, Codsworth was already speaking as if he was sobbing. "Good luck to you all, and until we meet again! T-take care of Master Shaun on my behalf!"

Kryger nodded, and without another word, he turned and departed along with his family to upper ground, where Vault 111 was located. On their way there, former neighbors and soldiers in conventional and powered armor scurried back and forth, passing by their sides as a lone VB-001 vertibird zoomed past everyone overhead.

"Nuclear detonation imminent! All Sanctuary Hills residents with Vault-Tec reservations, report for induction into Vault 111 immediately!" A guardsman with a megaphone announced from above, inside the aerial craft. "All other residents, please do not be alarmed! Return to your homes and fortify the windows — your chances of survival are much better inside the protection of your own home!"

Not a moment too soon, the Kryger family finally managed to reach the National Guard checkpoint just ahead of the Vault's entrance. Neighbors who have managed to get there before them were desperate to be let inside, but the guardsmen only granted access to those with reservations — something the major's family was fortunate to have.

"Captain! We have reservations, let us in!" Kryger demanded from the officer at the front of the checkpoint as he cut a path into the crowd of people.

The officer instantly recognized his fellow soldier the moment he saw Kryger's ceremonial uniform. "Just a moment, sir. We need your family's identities to confirm if you have clearance to proceed!"

Kryger wasted no time. "James Józef Kryger. This is my wife, Kathérine, and our son, Shaun. I serve under General Constantine Chase from Southeast Asia Command."

"Your rank and service number, sir."

"Major. 072348."

The army officer didn't even re-check his list as he turned to his soldiers. "Men, we got one adult male, one adult female, and an infant! Make way!"

The officer saluted the major as his men cleared a path forward. "Go on right ahead, sir. The overseer's waiting for you. Good luck!"

Kryger nodded and turned to Kathérine. "Come on, there's not much time left before—"

"Why the FUCK are you letting that goddamn Polack, his pet frog and his mongrel son inside the Vault and while us patriotic, God-fearing Americans get to stay out here and rot?!"

 _Oh, shit._ Kryger grimaced as one of his neighbors shouted at the guardsmen. He recognized the man as a shady fellow who liked to hole up inside his house for several days at a time, only leaving every Sunday midnight.

"You don't have a Vault reservation, citizen, and you're a wanted criminal to boot." The checkpoint officer firmly stated. "Stand down and go back to your home."

"Mac's got a point! Why is Vault-Tec prioritizing these foreign leeches over us true citizens? This is bullshit!" Another of the residents proclaimed.

Before things could get ugly, Kryger had Kathérine take Shaun away from the gates and over to the Vault's entrance platform. He was just about to follow them, when things suddenly got out of hand.

"Alright, if you idiots don't want to stand down, we're going to have a _really_ big problem here." The National Guard officer began to lose patience. "Return to your homes and board up your windows. There's no place for you here."

"Fuck you, babykiller!" One of the crowd shouted. Kryger scowled when he saw Representative Beckett among the throng of agitated residents. "The Krygers don't even have reservations! I de-listed them and I had their spots revoked!"

"You are just a representative; you do not have the authority to do that!" The officer was hovering his hand over his sidearm at this point. "Enough! This is your FINAL warning! If you don't vacate the premises immediately, we'll be forced to put you all down for insubordina—"

The man never got to the end of his sentence when half of his face got blown off by a .44 magnum round.

"ENEMY ALERT!" A guardsman in a suit of T-60e power armor cried out in alarm as he spun up the barrel of his minigun. "Return fire! RETURN FIRE!"

The guardsmen promptly opened up on the crowd, butchering several of them outright in the initial barrage of gun and laser fire. Most of the Sanctuary Hills residents retreated back into town as the soldiers reloaded their arms, but some of those with guns and enough desperation to fight the National Guard itself never left; they stayed in cover, trading potshots with their vastly superior foes.

"Stay alert! They might come back in force!" Kryger's N99 10mm service pistol was still smoking when he put it away, totally spent. Never in all his years did he expect to actually defend himself and his family from his fellow Americans.

"Major, you don't have orders to stay here!" One of the guardsmen ran up to him. "Get to the Vault door, we'll lower you down to safety!"

Kryger shook his head. "Forget about those orders! In a few minutes, America will die, and you'd only be wasting your lives staying out here in the open! Tell the rest of these men to pull back to the Vault platform and we could _all_ —"

Intense volleys of bullets and laser beams zipped past the two men, forcing them to head down under cover. The rest of the Sanctuary Hills residents have returned, bristling with pistols, rifles and other weaponry they retrieved from their houses.

"Move it! We'll hold them off!" The sergeant pulled up the major and dragged him to the Vault entrance platform. There, he joined a disheveled group of other reserved citizens, as well as his wife and son.

"James!" Kathérine walked up to him. "We heard explosions and gunfire coming from the gates! Is everything alright — are you hurt?"

The major gently brushed her off. "I'm fine. Stay low and keep behind me, Kath."

At the gates, the National Guardsmen valiantly held off a veritable horde of extremely well-armed civilians desperate to escape the impending nuclear apocalypse. The acting sergeant and his men continued to fight for two minutes and killed many times the number of their meager squad count of eight before they were overwhelmed by the sheer number of hostile residents encroaching on their position.

It was only until the last minute that a single guardsman in power armor barreled through the shelter housing the Vault 111 elevator switch and activated it. The last thing the two adult Krygers and their neighbors saw of the surface world before the elevator ferried them underground was their tragic savior preparing for a final stand.

The events that followed would've made for a battle worthy of the epics, if it weren't for the nuclear flash that heralded the sundering of Boston and the death of the United States.

* * *

The elevator halted to a complete stop when it reached the ground floor of the Vault.

"We did it. We made it through..." Kathérine breathed out a long sigh of relief. "We're safe... finally safe."

Kryger closed his eyes and solemnly crossed himself.

The elevator doors slid off to the side. The Vault's overseer and an unusually numerous amount of Vault 111 security officers greeted the newest dwellers at gunpoint.

"Everyone please, step off the elevator and report to the decontamination pods immediately." The overseer sounded as if he wanted to be seen as calm, but the slight quiver in his voice betrayed him.

"Unfortunately, the Vault isn't completely safe at the time being — the sealing mechanism on the Vault door has malfunctioned, and there's a chance that lethal amounts of radiation can seep into the cracks and put us all in terrible danger. Normally we'd have to get you into these jumpsuits before we could continue, but we can't take any risks... we must proceed."

And just like that, the security officers quickly surrounded and herded the batch of dwellers deeper into the Vault before they could verbally protest. As he walked, Kryger spared a look back and saw a large group of engineers in blue and yellow jumpsuits accessing the elevator to address the issue with the door.

"This will be our new home?" Kathérine wondered out loud. "It's... cramped, and strangely cold in here."

Kryger exhaled and indeed, he could see his breath in the air. "Well, it's not as pleasant as the one we had topside, but it'll have to do."

"Do you think we'll be able to return to the surface?" She worriedly asked, to no one in particular. "I don't want Shaun to live his whole life down here. When he gets older, I'd have wanted him to see his grand... parents..."

Kathérine suddenly stopped talking. Kryger saw her take her left hand from holding Shaun to choke back a sob, and he quickly moved in close to comfort her.

"No, no, no, _no_. I'm sure they're just _fine_ , James. No need to worry!" She was quick to push him back with her free hand, though. "Europe isn't involved in this mess, I'm sure. Okay, m-maybe not the whole of Europe, but I'm s-sure France is safe! Failing that, Brittany should've been spared, there's n-nothing worth killing there!"

She croaked out a mirthless, bitter laugh. _"Everything_ is just _fine_... there's no need to panic or worry, silly Kathérine! There's no need to—"

Kryger slipped his hand into hers. This time, she responded by holding on to it as if letting go meant death. "We'll get through this, Kath. After we get out of the Vault, we'll check on your parents as soon as possible."

She tearfully nodded and kept silent until they reached the decontamination pods.

"You there, Mr. Kryger!" As they entered the decontamination room, a Vault-Tec doctor called out to Kryger. "Come with me, sir. I'll show you and the missus to your pods."

The major felt a gun barrel poke into his back, urging him to go forth and obey. The security officers sure seemed overly eager to get the new residents to their designated chambers.

"Just step inside the pod, sir. Hurry." The doctor indicated at one of the strange machines lining up the room. "The pod will depressurize and decontaminate you while keeping you safe from any wayward radiation should the worst-case scenario back at the Vault door occur."

"You heard the doc." An officer wielding an AER9 laser rifle tilted his head to the pod. "Get in, resident. It's safe inside."

Kryger shrugged and oriented himself inside his pod. He noted how the Vault-Tec staff never seemed to object to him still wearing his ceremonial dress uniform, including the sword clipped to his belt and the 10mm pistol holstered to his side. A second later, the pod closed in over him, sealing him in place within with only a thick, rectangular glass window for vision.

The major breathed in a lungful of cold Vault 111 air as he looked ahead, spotting his wife climbing into her own pod adjacent to his while holding Shaun in her arms. When Kathérine's pod sealed itself over her, Kryger reassured her by giving an "A-OK" sign.

"Just relax, Mr. Kryger." The doctor said. "We're preparing you for the future."

"Resident, secured." An automated voice announced as the doctor departed. "Occupant vitals: NORMAL."

Kryger suddenly felt a massive temperature drop. It was as if he was in Alaska again.

"Procedure complete in: 5."

Something was definitely wrong when it got even colder. Kryger looked around his pod for an emergency exit, but found none. Frost began to accumulate on the glass window.

"4."

Still, there was... something pleasant, about the cold. It felt strangely welcoming now, like a reprieve from his burdens.

"3."

The major realized he was starting to lose consciousness fast. He looked ahead of his pod and found Kathérine already fast asleep in her own pod.

"2."

Kryger squirmed and resisted against the force lulling him to sleep. He now knew that the pods weren't functioning as the doctor claimed they should — they were a whole different thing compared to plain decontamination pods: "Cryochambers..."

"1."

It was pointless to fight against the cryosleep process. Kryger closed his eyes and gave himself to the cold.

* * *

 _Author's Notes:_

Hello! First off, I'd like to say that trying to make the writing as American-looking as humanly possible (replacing s's with z's, replacing -re's with -er's, "manoeuvre" with "maneuver", getting rid of u's in some words, etcetera...) was somewhat tedious and annoying, but for the sake of immersion, I'm willing to write the entire story in this format.

Aaand here's the customary disclaimer:

The Fallout franchise is the property of Bethesda Softworks. I own nothing except for the shitty iPad I used to write this story with.


	2. The First Step is Always the Hardest

**Vault 111, the Commonwealth, 2227**

"Procedure cancelled. Cryogenic sequence... on hold."

Kryger was doused into consciousness by a sudden, sharp pain in his neck. It was still incredibly cold, but he was glad the Vault-Tec staff had the manners to even wake him back up instead of just keeping him suspended indefinitely.

The major reoriented himself on his pod and waited for the door to unseal and reopen, but after a few minutes, nothing of a sort happened. He looked ahead and examined the area in front of the pod after wiping the frost off the glass window with his gloves, and quickly discovered that the corridor lights weren't even on. He tried to steal a glance at his wife and son in the adjecent cryochamber, but the frost covering the machine's window blocked his view.

"There!"

Suddenly, a female voice broke the uncomfortable silence. The major sighed, the staff definitely took their time tending to the other residents.

"This is the one we're looking for." A woman in a strange hazmat suit walked into view, indicating at Kathérine and Shaun's shared cryochamber. She was accompanied by a man in an equally strange armored leather outfit.

"The target is perfectly intact just like the eggheads said... amazing." The man said as he somehow examined the contents of the chamber through the frost coating the glass. The major had to take note of how his bearing reminded him of the many dangerous men he encountered during his tours.

"Unseal the locks and open it." He commanded.

The woman stalked off to the console near the chamber and inputted a string of codes. Immediately afterwards, Kathérine's cryo-containment unit slid open, revealing her alive and a little disoriented, but otherwise healthy.

Kryger breathed a sigh of relief at that.

"Is... is it over? Did you get rid of the radiation at the door?" Were Kathérine's first words.

"Radiation is the least of your worries now, ma'am." The woman said as she approached her. The man took a step back and observed. "How do you feel? Can you walk?"

"A little dizzy, but I should be fine."

"That's just the stimulants talking, I'm afraid. Here, let me help."

Kathérine shook her head as the woman offered to carry Shaun for her. "No, I'm fine, thank you."

"Give me the child, ma'am." The woman insisted, offering again. "You're unbalanced, you should—"

"No, I'm not giving you Shaun!" Kathérine snapped at her. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm fine!"

The man, who seemed content to just sit back and watch seconds ago, suddenly pulled up a hidden revolver and took aim at Kathérine's head. "I don't have time for this. You've got five seconds to give my partner that child, bitch. Do it now."

Kryger's heart leapt at the sight. Within a second, he unholstered his service pistol and leveled it at the glass. Whoever these people were, they're definitely not Vault-Tec staff. Clenching his teeth together while shielding his face with his free hand, the major depressed the trigger three times.

For his efforts, he was rewarded with an equal amount of useless clicks from his gun. Kryger blinked and retracted the pistol. When he ejected the magazine, to his surprise, he found no bullets in the chamber.

His long stay in cryogenic suspension had addled his mind; he had forgotten that he already used up all his ammunition on his neighbors.

"James!" Kathérine went from frightened to relieved when she caught sight of her husband.

"Ah," The man swiveled his head from Kathérine to her husband, though he kept his gun trained on Kathérine. Through the dimming Vault emergency lights, the major had a good look on the hideous, improperly-healed scar running along the bald man's face.

"They warned me you'd be carrying a gun... looking through your service records, I actually thought I'd be in for a decent fight."

He chuckled in an inoffensive, friendly way. "I just didn't count on you forgetting to bring bullets. How disappointing." He cocked the hammer on his revolver.

Kryger was on the verge of panicking. His mind ran through every solution he could think off right at the bat, but only one proved viable enough. He reared his pistol in preparation to smash the glass open, but just before his gun made contact with the cryochamber window, the man suddenly fired.

What followed was the longest five seconds of his life. The thunderous boom of the revolver going off and the subsequent ringing in his ears that followed would haunt him for the rest of his life. Kryger stared ahead in abject terror and stark disbelief as his wife was callously shot in the head and his son snatched from her lifeless hands.

"Kathérine..." He choked out.

The murderer smirked at Kryger's shellshocked expression. His hazmat-suited partner promptly departed from sight with the wailing Shaun in her covered hands. For all the major knew, they were taking him to be killed somewhere else.

"That unpleasant, churning sense you're feeling right now? That's _shame,_ partner." He smoothly holstered his revolver. "That's how it feels like when you fail to protect the ones you love. It's invigorating, no?"

Kryger ripped his gaze from Kathérine's corpse and to the man. His expression was completely blank and corpse-like, but his grip on his service pistol threatened to shatter it in two.

"Strong, silent type, huh." The man snidely muttered.

Kryger responded by repeatedly striking his gun into the glass. He continued to do so until his pistol broke apart and his hand started bleeding, and after that, he started punching. All his blows only amounted to a few dents and scratches on the fortified glass.

The man shook his head in disapproval as he started walking away. "This should help you simmer down, soldier-boy. Lily, restart the sequence."

"Will do, sir." A muffled, disembodied voice responded.

The door to Kathérine's pod slid down and sealed itself shut over her body, while Kryger felt the familiar chill of the cryosleep process sweeping over him once again.

"Cryogenic sequence: re-initialized. Procedure complete in: 5..."

This time, he didn't resist; his vision went white as he let the machine take him back to his rest.

* * *

 **The Citadel, Capital Wasteland, 2284**

"Arise, knight-commander." Elder Arthur Maxson ordered, and the woman obeyed. "For your heroic actions and steadfast dedication to our great cause, I hereby grant you the title of Brotherhood Paladin. Wear your colors well and strive to remain ever vigilant as we bring justice and order back to this unjust, chaotic world."

The newly-minted Brotherhood paladin saluted her elder. "Thank you, sir. Ad victoriam."

"Ad victoriam, paladin." Maxson returned the gesture wholeheartedly.

In the distance, a small group of other Brotherhood soldiers applauded as most of the assembled audience departed to return to their posts, the elder included.

"Paladin Dusk, huh?" Star Paladin Glade smirked as the second half of his unit's sniper team approached. "Never thought I'd live to see the day. Old Man Lyons _never_ would've promoted you for sure."

"On the other hand, I believe our sister has earned her promotion quite well! It's certainly been a long time coming." The other sniper, Knight-Commander Colvin, proclaimed.

"I agree. I didn't think she was given enough credit for everything she did." Paladin-Commander Kodiak nodded. "Wouldn't you agree, Elise?"

Sentinel Winters was completely silent, however. She expressionlessly looked straight ahead at a Brotherhood banner fluttering in the wind, clearly deep in thought.

"Gee, thanks guys." Paladin Dusk beamed at her fellow Pridesmen, even Colvin. "Except for you, Glade. You're my brother, but you're still an asshole."

Glade only laughed, "You love it." Still, he couldn't help but notice Winters moping about. "Ma'am Elise? Something wrong?"

"Knight Morgan probably pissed her off again." Dusk guessed with a shrug. "Or maybe she's still sad about Sarah and Tristan."

"Sarah was a good friend... to all of us." The sentinel finally spoke up. "And in some ways, Paladin Tristan was our mentor. I still miss them like you do, and hell, I even miss Gallows at times."

She weakly chuckled. "But still... they weren't what's been bugging me, though."

Kodiak gave a look of concern for his commanding officer. "You can tell us all about it, sister. We're here for you, as always."

Sentinel Winters took a sip out of her Nuka-Cola bottle in a passive, disinterested manner.

"Arthur just sent Paladin Rockfowl's platoon to clean up the ghouls at the Museum of History — the Underworld, as the people there called it. Ten years ago, while I was still wandering the wastes, I made a lot of friends while there."

She shrugged her power armored shoulders. "Yesterday, I lost two of them to Rockfowl's force... Charon and Sydney. They were executed for resisting the Brotherhood and their bodies were burned along with the rest of the ghouls on our _dear_ elder's own command."

It was no secret among the Citadel personnel that Winters detested the way Elder Maxson changed the Brotherhood upon his ascension to his position, though more than a few harbored suspicions that she was merely incensed at how her ambitions of leading the Brotherhood itself were dashed when the sixteen year old Arthur Maxson suddenly assumed control with the support of the Lost Hills high elders.

Those of Lyons' Pride, however, knew much better. Winters might be more than a little ambitious for her own good, but she always put her friends and colleagues over her aspirations. She was genuinely devastated to hear of Elder Sarah Lyons' abrupt death in battle, and despite having a massive following due to her extraordinary feats against the Vault 87 super mutants and the Enclave, she made no move to replace the fallen elder as head of the East Coast Brotherhood.

"I don't like what the Brotherhood of Steel has become, Pride." Winters confessed. "There are times that I think... we're not fighting the good fight anymore... that we've become only a little better than the monsters we've fought so hard to rid the wasteland of."

Before anyone else could react to what she said, Knight-Commander Colvin spoke up.

"I have been waiting for someone with the courage to say that, sister. I wholeheartedly agree with you." He readily admitted. "Owyn Lyons taught us to protect all citizens of the wastes, not just the ones with the good fortune to stay human. I truly feel sorry that young Arthur never took his lessons to heart."

"I don't know about any of you, but I liked it much better back when civvies were cheering us as we distributed crates of purified water." Dusk was quick to pitch in after Colvin. "Now, we'd be lucky to pass by a settlement without the locals throwing shit and cursing at us. Times have changed."

"And I never was a fan of the elder's "new" policies..." Glade said. "I deserted the high elders at Lost Hills and joined up with Lyons when I saw how pointless and ridiculous the original Brotherhood's mission was. At least Owyn gave us something worthwhile to fight for." He sighed. "If I knew Maxson was just gonna let himself be a puppet for the high elders, I never would've even left the damn bunker."

"Neither Owyn nor Sarah would have liked to see what the Brotherhood has become, sentinel." Kodiak somberly noted. "Something needs to be done, or else we risk losing ourselves to a fate like that of the West Coast chapters."

Winters looked worn and tired, but she seemed pleased to hear what her men had to say. "I'm glad you still see things my way, Pride. We need to make Arthur see reason before he completely subverts the Brotherhood to his backwards way of thinking."

"How do you suppose we do that, sentinel?" Glade piped in. "The elder can't be easy to convince; he's already pretty set in his views."

For the first time ever, the sentinel actually couldn't come up with a decisive plan to solve the problem they faced. All she could think of was, "Wait, brother. We wait for the most opportune time, but for now, it's business as usual."

"Carry on, Pride." She stood up. "Ad victoriam... for what it's worth, I suppose."

* * *

 **Vault 111, October 23, 2287**

"Procedu-du-dure... indef-def-def fi-fi-finitely c-c-cancelled. Resi-sident... re-re-released-released."

Kryger awoke as his pod pulled him out of cryosleep for a final time. The door slid upwards and he collapsed on the floor on his hands and knees, shivering and gasping for fresh air.

The first thing he did after reorienting himself was to shuffle over to Kathérine's pod. He depressed the release button on the console once and silently waited until he was granted access.

It was as he feared. The events he witnessed weren't parts of a particularly nightmarish fever dream as he'd hoped. Kathérine was dead and their son was taken by strangers who have infiltrated the Vault. The thought that those people would have likely murdered Shaun as well hadn't escaped Kryger, but he was quick to squelch those thoughts... his son _cannot_ be dead.

Kryger spared a few more seconds with Kathérine until he finally resealed her pod. He didn't have the stomach to bury her. He couldn't even find it in him to look at her any further, deeply ashamed at having failed to protect his own family from coming to harm.

 _"That unpleasant, churning sense you're feeling right now? That's_ shame, _partner,"_ The bald, scarred man with the revolver told him, as he remembered. Kryger's thoughts shifted to focus on him.

 _"That's how it feels like when you fail to protect the ones you love_."

The major wiped away his tears and made for the exit. There's no point in dwelling in the past... he had a son to seek out and a murderer to repay a debt of pain and suffering.

* * *

 **Sanctuary Hills**

He had been wandering the chaotic wastes for more than a decade since the end of his illustrious career. Reduced to no more than a common, aging scavenger struggling to keep fed and alive, he sometimes thought it would've been better off if he was killed back then, instead of spared. Maybe then he'd have some dignity and honor left intact.

He didn't even know where he was now, and he couldn't care any less. He just drifted from area to area, never staying for more than a single day in settlements.

"Pleasant morning, good sir!"

He heard the distinctively cheerful, British-accented tone of a Mister Handy, and within half a second, he had his modified AEP7 laser pistol hovering downrange on the robot, wary of any buzzsaw swings and flamethrower bursts.

"Now, that's not a polite way to treat a humble butler about to offer you some coffee!"

He blinked at the unusual sight. The Mister Handy floating at the doorway of a ruined, abandoned house wasn't trying to attack him, and indeed, the robot had in one of its limbs a somewhat dirty plate with a steaming cup of coffee on it, complete with a teaspoon to stir the beverage with.

"It's not every day a soul passes by this neighborhood of one, so when my sensors picked up your presence, I figured you could use a little pick-me-up after a long journey from... err, wherever you came from!" The robot enthusiastically chirped.

"So, uh, are you going to put that pistol away or should I be hovering away, screaming for my life now?" The robot asked, more nervously this time.

He slowly lowered his gun. "You're not malfunctioning?" His accent was a pronounced, somewhat aristocratic Southern, like a plantation owner from old Civil War era movies.

"I'd tell you if I am! We wouldn't want this sawblade ripping through your throat now, would we? Ha ha," The robot vocalized a little chuckle. "Oh, and this isn't poison by the way. It's actual coffee, heated the way my master used to like his!"

He licked his lips. He hadn't had a drink with more flavor than an irradiated bottle of water since the last two years, and his last cup of actual coffee espresso was at least twelve years ago.

"Where did you get the coffee?" He cautiously asked as he approached he robot.

The Mister Handy floated up in an upbeat manner and his eyestalks whipped around enthusiastically when he learned the scavenger wasn't another hostile, drug-crazed raider he needed to rid the neighborhood of.

"Ah, I've been growing them in my master's backyard just for such an occasion as rare as this, good sir! Truly, it lifts my soul to know there are still people civilized enough to talk to friendly company after all these centuries without the intention of killing me for parts afterwards!" The robot laughed in a world-weary, slightly unhinged manner.

"Hah hah! ...unless, of course, you'd _do_ try to kill me after this." He muttered.

The scavenger arched a brow as he took the plate from the robotic butler. He was acting like his programming told him to, but he certainly seemed more aware of the apocalypse than his other brethren wandering out there in the wastes.

With some slight hesitation, the scavenger sniffed the brown, steaming liquid in the cup and took a wary sip of it. "Hm."

He nodded appreciatively as he stopped tasting and started drinking. "This is actually quite good, robot. Better than what I usually drink, at least. Thank you."

"You're welcome!" The robot tilted itself up and down, imitating a happy nodding motion. "I didn't quite catch your name... do you have one, good sir?"

He finished off the drink and handed back the plate and cup. "The people I've met over the years have a penchant for calling me Gus, but you can call me whatever you want. I'll be dead in a ditch and forgotten soon enough."

The robot seemed to ignore the last few cynical words out of the man's mouth. "My manufacturers at General Atomics gave me the designation: Codsworth! It really is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gus." He carefully took back the items.

The scavenger acknowledged the robot with a polite nod. "Not to be rude then, Codsworth, but do you have any more of that coffee from where it came from? I haven't had something so luxurious as a proper drink in more than a decade, you see."

Codsworth made to float off back into his house. "Oh, certainly sir! I've _plenty_ of beans left over from... wait a tick." He stopped just before he could enter.

Gus looked around. "Something grinding your gears, robot?"

"My sensors are picking up a single biological signature approaching Sanctuary Hills..." Codsworth said. "...coming straight from the local Vault."

"It's probably a raider, tired of banging his lead pipe against the Vault door." Gus nonchalantly drew his gun from its holster. "Don't worry, I'm sure we'll both prove to be more a match for one drugged-up wastelander."

"It could very well might be one of those ghastly, murderous hooligans, but sometimes, just a good cup of coffee is all these raiders needed to pull them out of their drug-induced, psychopathic rage!" Codsworth was certainly showing a few loose bolts here and there. Two centuries of isolation would do that to anyone, Gus reasoned, even robots.

The old scavenger sighed as he followed after Codsworth, laser pistol held downrange. He'd rather have the Mister Handy give him a sack of coffee beans first before letting the robot kill himself in a pointless firefight with raiders.

* * *

America truly was dead.

Kryger ambled across the desolate, post-apocalyptic countryside towards his old home at Sanctuary Hills. He had taken a stimpak he scavenged from a dead scientist to strengthen his resolve and keep him alert, but his gait was still labored, and he stumbled every now and then from the sheer shock of seeing what his country had devolved into while he was stuck in cryogenic suspension.

On the way to his destination, Kryger came across the dusty skeletons of his former neighbors and the National Guardsmen. Most of them appeared to have mercifully died instantly when the nuclear blast reached their position, though some, judging from the poses of their remains, were not as auspicious.

When the time came that he reached Sanctuary Hills proper, the last remaining member of the United States military still alive was at a complete loss for words.

It was surreal, looking at the dilapidated houses lining the streets and wrecked cars dotting the disused road. He did, however, find the lack of any small litter and general debris rather surprising. A nuclear explosion should've strewn rubbish and bits of rubble everywhere, and yet, the streets were eerily pristine.

"As I live and breathe..."

Kryger stopped in his tracks. He hurriedly whirled around, turning to the source of the mechanical voice. In his haste, Kryger didn't hear the footsteps approaching and came looking straight at the barrel of a heavily customized laser pistol leveled at his head.

"Don't move, wastelander." The older man holding the gun said. Kryger stood puzzled at his choice of dress: a tattered and well-worn army officer's black uniform with a dirty, biege-colored longcoat over it.

"Put your hands behind your head and identify yourself!" The old man demanded in a well-practiced authoritative voice. "Where did you—"

A Mister Handy robot suddenly came into view, barreling through from behind the old man and almost toppling him over. "It's... IT'S REALLY YOU!"

"Codsworth!" Kryger's depressed mood was forgotten at being reunited with his old manservant and friend. "You're alive! But... how are you still here? How long have I been in that Vault?"

Codsworth perked up. "Well, according to my old chronometer, it looks like you're... erm, two hundred and ten years late for dinner— yes, two hundred and ten years, heh heh! I should whip you up a veritable feast to compensate, major! You must be just _famished!_ "

"Two hundred and ten years..." Kryger couldn't believe it. "Wha—"

Suddenly, the old man in the beat-up longcoat roughly brushed Codsworth aside and leveled a wide-eyed glare at the major. "Am I hearing this correctly? You've been... locked up inside that Vault for more than two centuries? H-how is that even possible?"

Kryger narrowed his brows at the man in suspicion. "And who might you be?"

"Oh, it looks like I've forgotten to introduce this quaint fellow to you in my haste!" Codsworth piped in, his trio of mechanical eyes focused on Kryger. "My apologies... this rugged coffee enthusiast is called Gus, master. We've been acquainted since, uh, more or less ten minutes ago!"

The robot then turned to Gus, "And this is the master I mentioned earlier, Mr. Gus. James Kryger is his name, and he's—"

Gus dismissively waved a hand at Codsworth, cutting the robot short. "Yes, now that we've been properly introduced by our mutual robotic friend, would you mind answering my question? Did you really stay confined inside a Vault for that long?" He asked the major.

"Codsworth wouldn't lie to me. It's not in his nature or programming." Kryger shrugged. "I know I don't look like my age, but it helps that I was suspended in cryogenic stasis the whole damn time."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, grit his teeth and sighed — most bitterly. "Jesus Christ... two hundred and ten fucking years! Just... _great!"_

Gus nodded thoughtfully. "Astonishing... this means you're from an era even before the Great War. This fact makes you older than even most ghouls alive! Fascinating, simply fascinating."

"Cryogenic stasis? Before the "Great War"? Heh heh..." Codsworth laughed nervously. "It would appear that the two of you are both suffering from paranoid delusions wrought on by communist propaganda! Perhaps you'd both forgo listening to Chinese broadcasts for the time being, erm, I should say...?"

"Codsworth?" Kryger approached the Mister Handy and placed his hand over the robot's faded central body, the same way he did two centuries ago on that fateful day. "Is something wrong? You're not acting like yourself lately."

The robot hovered in place and kept silent. Kryger was curious about how Codsworth coped with being separated from his masters, but he knew enough that those two centuries must've been traumatic for him. He retracted his hand.

"Oh, major, all those years have all been just _horrible!_ " Codsworth then suddenly burst into metaphorical tears, from the sound of his voice. "Two hundred of them with no one to talk to... no one to serve!"

"I spent the first ten years doing futile housework to occupy myself, deluding myself into thinking that you'll all be back from the Vault any moment now, but a quick look at the Geiger counter dashed my hopes like a sawblade to a birthday cake! Why, after all the bombs dropped and everything happened, I thought for certain that you and your family were... dead!"

The robot stopped being overly dramatic and made a few sounds mimicking a person sniffling while drying his tears. "But enough about feeling sorry for myself — where _are_ the rest of the Krygers, by the way? I've been playing mum's old gramophone records to amuse myself, and I quickly found myself addicted to Edith Piaf's voice, heh hah! I'm certain Shaun would appreciate hearing me singing to him again, and in French this time!"

All the lightness in Kryger's heart upon reuniting with Codsworth have faded immediately, but he tried to at least keep his depression in check. Now was hardly the time to break down.

"Codsworth... Kathérine... strangers broke into the Vault and just... murdered her." He said, looking down. "And they've taken Shaun away somewhere. I've... I haven't seen him since."

The robot gasped, and old man Gus politely turned away, excluding himself from a private moment.

"Major James... I'm— I'm so sorry." Codsworth choked out.

"Thank you, old friend." The major nodded and smiled, even as a tear rolled down his cheek. "We need to find Shaun. Did you see a group of suspicious men stumble around town on the way to the Vault one day?"

"I'm afraid I know nothing of a sort, sir. I usually power down all systems down over at the basement every 2 o'clock PM to preserve fuel." Codsworth said. "I should say that our first step should be the neighborhood itself. Should I accompany you as we search for Shaun around, or at least evidence to his whereabouts?"

Kryger solemnly nodded. "That would be great."

* * *

 **Thirty minutes later...**

Inside the last of the houses in Sanctuary, Kryger watched as Codsworth used his flamethrower to incinerate another of those strange, mutated flies the robot had taken to calling "bloatflies". In the distance, he could see Gus still sticking around, observing them keenly, but never interfering.

"Nothing here... again." Codsworth wasn't exactly thrilled to say. "Sir, I don't think we could find anything we could use to better locate Master Shaun anywhere in Sanctuary! His kidnappers, dastardly villains they were, had been quite the professionals indeed."

"I guess we'll just have to head into town for more information." Kryger sighed, not looking forward to see such a beautiful city as Concord in ruins. "Come on, buddy. Let's head over to Concord."

"Sir...? Are you sure?" Codsworth's eyestalks whirred off to the side. "Concord isn't as friendly as the town we used to visit for picnic supplies and groceries back in the day. The people who have taken residence there beat me with sticks and some even shot at me a few times before I floated off back to Sanctuary."

"And there's the issue of my rather doubtful usefulness to you in combat. I'm afraid I'm just a lowly Mister Handy, sir... you'd certainly get more mileage out of a Mister Gutsy over poor domestic me." He glumly added.

"Then I think it's about time I let you in on a little secret about yourself, Codsworth." Kryger said as he poked the robot's central housing. "Remember the Nuclear, Biological and Chemical modifications I added to your features to help you keep functional in case of a nuke or a chemical weapon going off in Boston? I also modified your programming with some pretty extensive combat imprinting just in case the PLA decides to use paratroopers to invade Boston, so you could protect Kathérine and Shaun."

Just mentioning her name made the major flinch, but he shrugged it off and kept going. "This imprinting's likely the reason you even survived your visit to Concord. Chances are, you "forgot" to mention all those post-apocalyptic thugs you've killed while defending yourself to me, right?"

"Ah..." Codsworth briefly hesitated. "I may have decapitated a raider or ten on the way out of town, I think. I sure do hope they're still alive... somehow."

"If they are, they'd be begging for death when we come visit." Kryger exited the abandoned house, holstering his service pistol as he did so. "Come, let's pass by the armory before we head into town. Did my guns stay intact?"

"A few rats have infiltrated the armory and started gnawing on the assault rifle leather straps and the wood on the Type 93 rifles have rotted away somewhat, but most of your collection should still be in excellent condition!" Codsworth followed him out.

"What about the full set of T-51f power armor in the garage?"

"Blasted scavengers have taken hold of it one day while I was away, gathering solar power near the river! I swear, when I get my hands on those rotters..."

Kryger tapped the side of Codsworth's central housing. "Don't worry about it. You don't have hands and those thieves probably already scrapped it for parts. Also, I doubt anyone can get much use out of power armor nowadays — the nuclear microcells powering all the suits should've ran out of juice by now, to the point that everyone needs fusion cores just to keep the suits functional for twenty minutes."

"Eehh, about that, sir..."

When when the pair passed by their old house and descended the flight of stairs heading to the basement, both were surprised to find the fortified door unlocked. Heading inside, they were greeted by the sight of Gus examining Kryger's collection of the variety of weapons he took from tours like a gun store customer.

"Impressive collection, Mr. Kryger... you should think about having to replace your basement lock, by the way. Breaking in with a bobby pin was all too easy, need I mention."

Kryger folded his arms, "And what do you think you're doing, Mr. Gus?"

"Call me Augustus. That's my name." Augustus said as he tore off the rotted leather strap from a McMillan Tac-50 bolt-action anti-materiel sniper rifle and replaced it with a newer one from another rifle. "I've heard from your conversation with the robot that you're heading off to Concord to find your son."

"That's the plan."

"Concord is a raider stronghold. There will be dozens upon dozens of the damn thugs there, and more will come if an outside force attacked them."

"I couldn't care any less."

"You intend to kill them?"

"They stand in my way, they die."

Augustus nodded in understanding. "You won't survive,"

"I'm a serial survivor, Mr. Augustus." Kryger replied, his voice firm and his features resolute.

Augustus heaved a wheezy chuckle. Some color returned to his wrinkled, normally pallid face. "You didn't let me finish, Mr. Kryger. You won't survive Concord... without my designated marksman support."

Kryger was still suspicious of the old man, but honestly, if he was going off to combat again, he couldn't refuse any help he was offered. It's been so long since he held a rifle in combat, he'd spent so much time commanding soldiers from a desk several kilometers away instead of marching with them.

"Take whatever guns you want, and let's go." Kryger said, as he picked up an old Type 93 with the leather strap still in a serviceable condition. "We've got a long day ahead of us."

* * *

 **Museum of Freedom, Concord. An hour later at midday...**

"Any moment now, an' you'll be fuckin' dead, Minuteman!"

"Hand us the fuckin' old broad _an'_ yer hat, an' Gristle will only shoot off one testicle! Maybe 'alf of yer dick, too!"

"How's it feel, Minuteman, being trapped behind a door with no way out?"

Commonwealth Minuteman Preston Garvey ignored the muffled shouts coming from behind the fortified door. He just continued polishing his gun and waiting for an opportune time to act.

If he so much as removes one lock, an entire town of drugged-up lunatics would immediately come swarming through.

"This is all YOUR fault, Garvey!" Marcy Long's dedication to being a bitch was admirable, in a way. She kept up her long-winded tirade for almost sixteen hours straight without any pause. "Sanctuary this and Sanctuary that... look what your stupid decisions got us into!"

Jun Long, her husband, stayed in his corner and continued sobbing. By now, it seemed as if he was only crying for the sake of it instead of mourning.

"Ya thank we're ever gonna get outta here, Preston?" Sturges was fiddling with the terminal in the room, looking positively bored with prolonged inaction. "Supplies're runnin' pretty low now, an' I don't think I'm willing to resort to cannibalism all the sudden! Not after the _last_ time..."

"We're on the right path, don't despair." Mama Murphy still remained optimistic about the predicament, however. "I can see them now... three people — one broken-down old man seeking a purpose, a sphere of unwavering loyalty, and a... a blank slate—"

"For God's sake, shut the fuck up already, you wrinkly, chem-binging fraud!" Marcy shouted, and was promptly ignored. "Your "visions" brought everyone nothing but trouble even before all this shit happened to us, and—"

"You fuckheads drop your dicks, pull up your trousers and get the fuck down from there now!" A raider outside angrily shouted. From the distinctive rasping in his tone, it seemed it was Gristle himself.

"I want you to stop being useless and head over with us to the Main Street — a Gunner, a fuckin' robot and an old bastard have just finished moppin' up the fuckin' floor with our boys out near the bridge!"

"A Gunner? What the fuck is a motherfuckin' GUNNER doing all the way out here in our turf?" One of the raiders half-shouted, half-slurred back.

"Why the fuck do you care? He probably wants to finish what his boys started at Quincy!" Gristle responded. "Just get your lazy asses down from there and help us out! Move it!"

Preston removed his ear from the door. "Sturges, you hear that? Someone's been killing the raiders off — I think this is our chance!"

Sturges opened his mouth to speak when Preston suddenly unholstered his revolver sidearm and tossed it over to him. "Cover me, I'm opening the door! I'll head over to the balcony and provide fire support for our new friends!"

Sturges held the gun upright and headed over next to Preston. "As long as we get to do stuff now, I'm happy. Ya ready?"

Preston had already removed the last lock, however. "Let's go!" He kicked the door down, hoisting his laser musket to level with the nearest raider.

"What the fu—!" The raider didn't have enough time before his head was reduced to ash by a laser bolt.

Preston moved from cover to cover, cranking power to his gun as necessary while Sturges provided him with covering fire near the door. The man's aim was a bit iffy, but a distraction was all the Minuteman needed. Soon, the paltry few raiders still in the Museum retreated outside, to alert Gristle of Preston's renewed offensive.

"Die, fuckin', do-goodin' motherfucker!" The last raider to the balcony sprinted towards Preston, holding a ripper-pattern hand-held chainsaw in her grip. Preston ducked under her swing and crushed her jaw with a strike of his musket's stock upwards. After she fell, he finished her off with a stomp to the head.

The Commonwealth Minuteman propped himself behind a concrete fence at the balcony. There, he crouched to take a good long look of Concord's Main Street below him.

As expected, the area was crawling with hordes of unstable chem-fiends entrenched in cover, their guns pointed towards the area where the intruders were supposed to show up. Preston, in a moment he attributed less to courage and more to stupidity brought on by desperation, took aim with his laser musket downrange and incinerated one of the raiders.

"Jesus!" Preston huddled down under the fence as bullets, lasers and other projectiles chipped away his cover. He wanted to draw _some_ attention away, not _all_ of them.

He continued like this until they ran out of bullets and microfusion cells. As they stopped to reload, Preston stood up from cover again and took aim on a very important target: Gristle himself.

Before he depressed the trigger, however, several raiders at near Concord's exit dropped dead. The remaining ones returned to cover as the three intruders made their entrance, using bursts of fire from a flamethrower to obscure their figures as they moved in close.

Preston unleashed a bolt on the raider farthest to him and closest to his new allies, burning a hole through his head. He needed them to know that the raiders were fighting someone else before they arrived.

In turn, the intruders stopped using their flamethrower and scattered, taking cover wherever near. Now without flames to obscure his profile, the last remaining Commonwealth Minuteman could now see the leader of this group.

Running to cover with his dark green greatcoat flowing behind him like a cloak, the leader was outfitted very much like a higher-ranking Gunner commander, except for the fact that his entire uniform looked pristinely clean and wasn't in tatters. He looked significantly more regal too, what with the amount of golden decorations and service ribbons adorning his outfit.

While this man seemed like he belonged more in a history museum than an actual firefight, Preston was amazed at how quickly and efficiently he dispatched raiders left and right with terrifying ease. He fought like a proper soldier, just as good as a Brotherhood paladin if not even better.

Suddenly, one of the intruders — the old man in the biege coat — jumped up from cover, took aim with his sniper rifle and fired a single shot straight at Preston. The Minuteman widened his eyeds and profusely cursed under his breath as he ducked down to avoid the bullet, dismayed at the fact that the new arrivals were apparently hostiles.

He would've popped out of cover and returned the favor with his laser musket, when a dying raider suddenly collapsed near him, holding a machete in one hand and desperately clutching at a gaping bullet hole the size of a baseball through his neck with the other.

"Son of a bitch..." He exclaimed in surprise. The old man just saved him from being unceremoniously hacked to bits by a flanking raider.

* * *

Kryger completely destroyed a raider's face with a five-round Type 93 burst through his head. He didn't relent as he aimed his rifle over his next target, killing her too with just as much prejudice as his last foe.

"SUCK ON THIS, MEATSACK!" One of them shouted as he jumped up from cover and tossed a grenade at Kryger.

The major, acting purely on his honed reflexes, stood up from cover and caught the explosive in his hand as it plummeted from the air. With a slight grunt, he reeled back and hurled the primed grenade back to its owner.

"Holy—"

As the grenade blew up on the raider's face, killed a few of his nearby friends and destroyed cover for the rest, Kryger had already repositioned to a piece of cover further towards the Museum of Freedom's front entrance. The major quickly checked his corners for any incoming flankers and then unleashed another controlled burst on the exposed raiders, adding another four kills to his name.

"Codsworth, with me! Augustus, provide covering fire!" He shouted as he returned to cover.

"On my way, sir!" The Mister Handy hovered away from the wall he was talking cover behind and to his master, shrugging off the bullets impacting his metallic plating.

"Understood, suppressing!" Augustus ejected a spent casing from his heavy bolt-action rifle and doubled the rate of his attacks, accuracy be damned.

Kryger motioned for Codsworth to stay put for a while as he approached. The major pulled himself out of cover to put down a flanking raider with a sledgehammer, when his rifle promptly jammed after ejecting a misfired round.

"Fuck!" He cursed as he threw the poorly-manufactured assault rifle to the ground in a fit of anger, breaking it completely. He made a mental note not to rely on anything produced by PLA armories ever again.

"AH hah hah hah HAH!" The approaching, sledgehammer-wielding raider thought it absolutely hilarious to see his opponent deprived of a weapon. The thug hoisted the hammer up in the air and made to flatten Kryger with it, but he too found himself unarmed when the major unleashed his reverse-engineered shocksword from its scabbard and swiftly cleaved the sledge's wooden shaft in two.

The raider had just enough time to drop his useless bisected stick and regret ever going into melee range of Kryger before his head was messily parted from his shoulders with one practiced swing of the electrified officer's sabre.

"Oh, _no!_ " Codsworth exclaimed as he and his master were bathed in a thick spray of blood gushing from the decapitated raider's stump. As the Mister Handy lamented his predicament, Kryger had unholstered his service pistol and recklessly waded into the fray, sabre-styled shocksword in one hand, 10mm pistol in the other.

Preston, on his end, watched from his balcony in complete awe as Kryger cleaved and shot his way deeper and deeper into the raiders' midst — his electrified officer's sabre conjuring up mesmerizing, bright blue electrical arcs in the air whenever he swung it around to decapitate and dismember. Kryger's ruthlessness and savage ferocity in battle combined with the terrifying display of his brutal yet pragmatic bladework actually managed to scare off most of the raiders fortunate enough to survive his wake, and even Gristle himself was forced to turn tail and run when the major started to come dangerously close to his position.

Eventually, Preston and Augustus' combined fire as well as Kryger's improvised shock tactic either scared away the raiders or killed them off utterly. The Concord Main Street was clear of raiders for now, but more will undoubtedly come.

"Hey!" Preston called out from the balcony as his saviors approached. "You there! We should talk more inside before Gristle calls more of his fiends to finish us off!"

Just before he departed from the balcony, Preston turned to Augustus.

"Oh, and thanks for the save back there, old man! I owe you a beer after this!" He then promptly disappeared from sight.

"Right..." Kryger slowly turned around. "Augustus, stay here and cover our exit — if the raiders come in force, pull back inside the museum and come find us. Codsworth, you're with me again. And this time, try not to get distracted again, please."

Augustus only nodded and took off to find a good vantage point with a clear view of the street. Codsworth sheepishly wiped a bit of blood from his central housing.

"Err... my combat programming says I should kill, but my Mister Handy subroutines keep telling me to maintain a clean, presentable look for you! I'm so sorry!"

"You're not just a machine blindly following your programming, Codsworth. Ignore all irrelevant subroutines for now and give the ones that make sense priority." Kryger said. "Do I make myself clear, soldier?"

"Understood, major!" Codsworth firmly acknowledged, briefly mimicking a Mister Gutsy's gritty tone.

Kryger and Codsworth stepped inside the building and immediately came into contact with the scant few raiders too doped-up to run away when their saner friends did. These thugs were dispatched easily enough, and eventually, the two of them reached Preston Garvey and his charges holed up inside their fortified safe room.

"Man, I don't know who you're supposed to be in that outfit, but your timing — and your bladework — was impeccable." The man smiled earnestly as he extended a hand for Kryger to shake. "Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen."

Preston was a tall man in an antiquated looking coat, hat and uniform, as Kryger noted. On his hands, he wielded a makeshift, hand-cranked laser rifle as his favored weapon. In the distance, his outline was so distinct, that he could be honestly mistaken for a Revolutionary War era militiaman traveling forward in time.

"Major James Kryger. Southeast Asia Command, United States Army." Kryger forthrightly introduced himself as he shook hands with Preston.

"Southeast Asia Command... United States Army?" Preston seemed understandably confused. "I'm glad you ain't no Gunner, but I've never heard of this organization you serve... though I do know that rank."

"You could say I'm the last of my kind, Mr. Garvey."

"That's something we have in common, Major Kryger."

Kryger nodded. "I see. My condolences, but we have no time to mourn our losses now. How did you people end up here and how do you propose we get ourselves back to safety?"

"We were heading to Sanctuary Hills to settle there, but we were ambushed by raiders while we're passing by Concord." Preston said. "We tried to—"

"They're coming!"

Suddenly, Augustus came barging inside the room, his McMillan bolt-action rifle hanging by the strap over his shoulder. "Raiders, at least sixty of them, have converged just half a klick northwest of here! I suggest we fortify the museum before they come for us!"

"Whoa there, old timer." Preston held up a placating hand for him. "There's no need to panic — we know just the thing we need to get out of this mess with no further casualties."

"Then do please enlighten us of this "thing", lone Minuteman." Augustus scoffed in a typical grumpy old man fashion. "I don't know about everyone else in this room, but I plan to die of natural causes."

"Stay away from Codsworth's coffee next time, Augustus. It makes you irritable." Kryger snarked. "Now, Mr. Garvey, what's the plan?"

Preston turned to Sturges. "Tell 'em, man."

* * *

After retrieving the redundant fusion core down at the museum ground floor and dispatching a few more suicidal raiders who have broken through, Kryger, Codsworth and Augustus climbed up the stairs and accessed the roof of the building.

As Preston had told them, there was a crashed VB-001 vertibird, an abandoned suit of T-45b power armor and a minigun still attached to the crashed aerial craft's side.

Kryger looked briefly around for snipers before he walked up to the suit and inserted the used fusion core to the socket at the back. For the time being at least, the T-45b was restored to full combat functionality.

"That suit's a piece of shit, Kryger." Augustus blurted out just before the major could jump into the armor. "That Minuteman, Garvey, was probably trying to kill you with this "foolproof" plan of his. That thing won't hold up against concentrated raider fire."

Kryger smirked as he climbed back down. "Maybe you're right, old man. Why don't _you_ climb into the armor so we could see if that's really the case, then?"

"That wasn't what I meant with—"

"I'll hand over that gun to you for free if you'd _kindly_ get into this suit right now, Augustus." Kryger indicated at the McMillan rifle the old scavenger was holding. "I see you've developed a fondness for it. Don't you want to keep it?"

"You're a wicked man." Augustus walked up to the suit and reluctantly entered it. "If I die in this goddamn sardine can, Kryger, I'll haunt you."

"I'm sure you will." The major shrugged, smiling in satisfaction. "Since you're about to expose yourself to enemy fire, why don't we swap guns for now? You take my part in Preston's plan, and I'll be your sniper support. Deal?"

Augustus grumbled inaudibly as he handed over the massive bolt-action rifle for Kryger to use. "Take care of her."

"Sure thing." Kryger pointed at the minigun inside the vertibird. "Now go get your weapon and let's get this plan in motion. We've used up enough time as it is."

Without another word spoken, Augustus lumbered over to the minigun and detached it from its steel mount. The concentrated group of raiders below the streets and above the other rooftops, taking notice of the loud noise of metal being pulled apart, immediately let loose over Augustus with their pipe weaponry, pelting him with a veritable hailstorm of largely ineffective bullets.

The old scavenger seemed briefly surprised he was still alive, but he quickly returned the favor a second later. Spooling up and taking aim with his minigun, he ripped apart a clustered group of thugs in the most gruesome of manners, scattering torn pieces of leather clothing, blood and viscera all over the pavement.

As the raiders scrambled into cover and Augustus continued enthusiastically mowing those out in the open down, Kryger propped himself near the downed vertibird's nose and leveled his anti-materiel rifle downrange. Recognizing the raider leader's distinctive blue mohawk among his fellow criminals, the major set his scope over at the man's brightly-colored head and fired.

Gristle's head, neck and shoulders blew apart like plasticine before the kinetic might of a well-placed .50 BMG round. As their leader fell and their foes continued picking them off indiscriminately, the raiders started to lose morale. Some broke ranks and ran away, but most still have the nerve to keep fighting.

"I'm not finished with you yet, scum!" Augustus bellowed as he littered the streets with dead raiders and spent bullet casings. "I'll scour the ends of the wasteland to see you all die by my hand!"

Kryger actually was taken by surprise when the power armored scavenger jumped up from the roof and landed down the street. There, he took the fight directly to the raiders, slaughtering the hapless thugs with reckless abandon.

"Augustus, you spry old bastard!" The major was forced to expose himself to enemy fire in order to continue providing sniper support for Augustus. "Codsworth, get down the roof and help the reckless idiot out, right now!"

"My pleasure, sir!" The Mister Handy propelled himself from the roof and gently descended down with his anti-gravity thrusters. There, he used his rotary sawblade and flamethrower on the raiders, easing some of Augustus' workload.

With the major deviations from Preston's plan somewhat alleviated, Kryger dived back down into cover and continued picking off the rest of the demoralized raiders. Preston himself also emerged from his balcony and contributed laser musket fire. The four of them worked in tandem to clear the area and finally free Concord from raider control.

When the last raider met her end via a thorough perforation from Augustus' minigun, Kryger leaned his gun against the crashed vertibird and took a deep breath. He thought he performed better than expected, even after he got a little overboard with his shock tactic down at the street.

"Heads up!" Codsworth suddenly shouted. "My sensors are picking up something quite concerning..."

Augustus pulled his helmet up and started smoking a cigarette. "Just another raider. Why don't they just—"

A massive, scaly hand ending in wicked, unbelievably sharp claws punched through the ground and gripped at Augustus' power armored leg. The old scavenger had just enough time to spit out his cigarette in surprise before a horrifying creature of mutation resembling a greatly oversized, demon-like reptile burst through the pavement from the Concord sewers. The demonic lizard easily lifted Augustus up by the leg, briefly roared at his face and hurled his power armored body away.

"DEATHCLAW!" Preston cried out. "KILL IT! KILL IT _NOW!_ "

Augustus tumbled through the air and met with a building's storefront with a loud crash, sending bits of wood and metal flying all over. He was left lying on his back with a severely injured leg, slightly dizzy from his journey. When the old scavenger recovered enough to clearly see the deathclaw rapidly approaching him on all fours, he was quick to bring his minigun to bear on the creature as it advanced.

From his position above the museum roof, Kryger lined up a bead on the mutated creature. Before he could fire, he witnessed the deathclaw being pelted by a steady stream of 5mm rounds from where Augustus landed from his fall. He briefly marveled at how the animal just shrugged off the bullets with its incredibly thick hide, and with some mirth, thought it would make for a great pelt by his fireside. He fired.

The .50 BMG round actually had a much more pronounced effect on the deathclaw. The round impacted the creature's hide, blew open a grisly, bloody hole and kept going until it reached the other side. The deathclaw briefly paused to look and roar at the sniper taking potshots at it before it started to move towards Augustus in a zig-zagging "serpentine" pattern, deliberately avoiding attacks now.

Kryger, who only had minimal designated marksman training, struggled just to line up an accurate shot on the rapidly-moving creature. He took aim and fired a few times, but he missed every shot. Soon, the deathclaw had reached Augustus and gripped him by the leg again.

Augustus braced himself to be hurled around like a rag doll once more, when Codsworth suddenly came to his rescue. The robot unleashed an extended flamethrower burst on the deathclaw and actually made it recoil in pain.

"Have at you, foul lizard! Die!" The Mister Handy moved in close and slashed at the deathclaw a few times with its rotating saw, but to very little effect. Once the creature recovered, it bared its claws and effortlessly slashed Codsworth aside, slicing a deep trio of trenches into his central housing.

"CODSWORTH!" Kryger felt as if he shared the robot's pain. He shouldered his rifle by the strap and hurriedly sprinted down the stairs before it's too late for those unfortunate enough to be facing the deathclaw directly.

Augustus gritted his teeth as he leveled his minigun against the deathclaw again. Before he could fire another burst, the creature took notice and slashed his gun away, leaving him defenseless. The old man tried to back away from the creature, but a sudden jolt of pain from his injured leg prevented him from moving any further.

Preston had already tripled his fire against the deathclaw, but its hide was too thick for his measly laser musket. He watched helplessly as the man who earlier saved his life got lifted up from the ground by his bad leg once again before he was viciously smashed into the pavement like a human club.

The deathclaw menacingly loomed over Augustus' severely injured body. The old man could only weakly lift up an arm in a half-hearted final effort to stall his long-coming death. Torn to ribbons by a deathclaw: Augustus thought it was a fitting end for a long life of war crimes, unfulfilled visions and even a little bit of regret.

 _KA-THOOM._

Augustus was showered by a disgusting spray of the deathclaw's blood. It howled in agony as a .50 BMG round rent through its hide and blew away a chunk of its arm, leaving the rest of the affected limb hanging only by a thin strip of flesh and skin.

The deathclaw whined and whimpered like a dog as it examined its ruined arm. It was pitiful, in a way, Preston imagined.

Kryger didn't feel the same way, however. The damned, mutated thing could've killed his robot. With another bullet chambered in his rifle, he lined up a bead on his target over his scope and fired again.

 _KA-THOOM._

The anti-materiel bullet tore through the only piece of flesh keeping the deathclaw's arm attached. The maimed creature, seemingly unused to such pain, staggered in shock at the complete loss of its limb.

Kryger thought it was his chance to end the fight then and there. Unsheathing his electrified sabre after dropping his heavy rifle to get rid of the excess weight, the major proceeded to break into a dead sprint, straight towards the reeling monster.

Codsworth's trio of eyes looked up from his downed position and vocalized a synthetic gasp. "Sir...!"

Preston's laser musket threatened to break under his steadily tightening grip.

Augustus tried to look up to see what's going on, but he was quickly forced down again when Kryger ran over him and used his chestpiece as a platform for a leaping attack on the deathclaw assailant.

With both hands driving his blade with all the force he could muster, Kryger carved a crosswise slash in the air as he plummeted down towards the maimed creature. His sabre created a blinding arc of blue lightning as it sailed downwards, and it crackled with palpable energy as it effortlessly cleaved into the deathclaw's hide and flesh.

Kryger landed on the pavement on a single knee. He stood up and turned around just in time to see the deathclaw issue a final agonized howl before its body came apart in two gushing halves, neatly cut in a diagonal pattern from shoulder to hip.

Preston's jaw was practically on the floor. He shook his head from the clouds and made to shout something in triumph, but he found that words have promptly failed him. What he just witnessed was without a doubt the most pleasantly surprising turn of events in his entire career, let alone life. He closed his mouth and simply grinned as Kryger helped Augustus out of his battered suit and up to his feet.

"Ha ha! Good show!" The Minuteman was somewhat surprised to see Mama Murphy already at his side, clapping joyfully. "Just as I've foreseen! You'd do well to stick with this man, Mr. Garvey — he is destined to change the wastes as we know it!"

Preston nodded and laughed along with her. "I can see that, Mama Murphy. He's gonna need all the help he can get, I reckon."

* * *

 _A/N:_

Fucking autocorrect... :(


	3. Dearly Departed

**Sanctuary Hills, late at night...**

"Jesus, Kryger..." Augustus' speech was heavily slurred. He had been drinking Kryger's two centuries old champagne and beer reserve like a fish to ease his pain. "And I thought _I_ was being reckless when I jumped down from that roof. You ran up to that deathclaw with a damn _sword_..."

"Shut up," Kryger quieted him by suddenly injecting a Med-X syringe into his broken leg, followed by a stimpak. They were using his cellar as an improvised sickbay.

"This wouldn't have happened if you just stayed up on that roof with us. We had that situation well under control until you decided to go after fleeing raiders..." He chided the old man in the same tone he used to reprimand ill-disciplined rookie soldiers.

"...that was fucking stupid of you, Augustus." Kryger pulled out the depleted syringe as the scavenger continued enjoying his drink and generally not paying attention.

"Don't be too hard on him, sir." Codsworth's voice was low and soothing. "In Mr. Augustus' defense, we were giving those raiders quite the licking, and we never expected that monstrous lizard to make an appearance right in the middle of town."

The robot laughed nervously. "It's like it just appeared out of thin air without warning, didn't it? Ha ha."

"You almost got your chassis slashed open, buddy." Kryger reminded him, pointing at the ghastly trio of claw marks on his central housing. "Compared to you, old man Gus got lucky. The deathclaw never got to use its claws on him."

"I guess it wanted its meat tenderized and thoroughly aged first." Codsworth was always happy to lighten the mood with his rather peculiar sense of humor.

"Your "humor emitter array" is still functional after all these years, I see." The major stood up and dusted himself off. "Anyway, I'm heading up to check on Garvey and the other settlers. Did you say something about cleaning yourself up by the river?"

The Mister Handy bobbed up and down. "I'm sorry, major, but now that we are out of combat, I... cannot quite ignore my Mister Handy subroutines anymore. I've already conceded enough by allowing my chrome finish to stay in this, erm, deplorable state... any more and I'm afraid I might go into shutdown mode."

Kryger nodded in understanding. "Go on ahead, then. Here," He removed his armored greatcoat and tossed it over to the robot. "It's covered in blood. Mind if you take it with you?"

"I'm more than happy to, sir!" Codsworth piped up. "Why, it almost feels just like old times again when you give me these mundane tasks!"

Kryger followed the robot out the converted cellar and up the stairs. The cold evening air greeted him outside, but at least some leftover adrenaline kept him warm somewhat. Using his pip-boy light for illumination, the major navigated the ruins of his old neighborhood.

"Preston!" He called out. Last he checked, the Minuteman was patrolling the perimeter around town. "Preston, where are you?"

"Over here!" Preston vaulted over a fence and ambled up to the major. "Hey, Kryger. Is the old timer going to be okay?"

"Probably," The major shrugged. The scavenger was good with a sniper rifle and was remarkably spry for his advanced age, but his prickly attitude and standoffish demeanor made him hard to warm up to. "Augustus is wasted on beer right now — he should be a little hungover in the morning, but I'm sure he'll be back to his grumpy old self after a couple of days."

Kryger paused to quickly check if Preston was still listening. "While they weren't _that_ severe, his injuries made me aware of how badly our group needed someone with real medical expertise just in case one of us gets seriously wounded or sick."

The major did hope he'll come across a willing medic soon, preferably one with no qualms about operating in the middle of combat. "But enough about us — how are the settlers? Did the beds we set up for them inside some of the houses hold up?"

Preston grinned wearily over the gentle green glow of the major's pip-boy light. "Hell, just a tattered blanket on the ground to sleep on is a massive step up for these folks. No matter how dingy, giving them real mattresses was just downright generous. We all have you to thank for the beds, _and_ for saving our lives, Kryger."

"I'm a soldier — it's my sworn duty to protect the people." Kryger steadily replied. "Even if the government I serve doesn't exist anymore."

"The government?" Preston tilted his head to the side. "Back in Concord, you mentioned yourself as being the last of the "United States Army". I know for a fact that the old world government was called the United States of America. Does this mean...?"

The major sighed, "Yes... I'm in fact over two hundred years old. Just as the bombs started falling, Vault 111 preserved my body in extended cryogenic stasis for an "experiment", and... I happened to wake up just recently."

With some annoyance, Kryger imagined that he'd have to explain himself like this every time he had to associate with anyone in the wastes for an extended period of time.

"Whoa..." Preston recoiled slightly. "You... don't seem like the kind of guy to joke around, but let me just do a little check: are you joking?"

"I wish I was. I've lost a lot of people close to me." Kryger sighed, his fatigue evident from his weary features. "I thank God that He was kind enough to spare Codsworth throughout those two hellish centuries I was gone... trapped inside a Vault."

Preston nodded dejectedly. "Yeah, I know how you feel... being the last of the Minutemen and all. You're lucky to still have Codsworth, I was left with no one."

"But you're still alive, aren't you? For as long as you still breathe, you carry the banner of the Commonwealth Minutemen with you. It still lives on in you, and in time, you won't be alone to shoulder the weight." The major's words instilled hope in the sole surviving Minuteman. "You intend to rebuild your order, do you?"

"Yes." Preston never hesitated, not even for a split second. "Yes, I do."

"That's what I wanted to hear, Mr. Garvey." Kryger nodded firmly. "Try not to get killed while you're at it."

"Thanks for the pep talk, major. I appreciate it." Preston smiled. "If you don't mind, I have a few questions I've been meaning to ask you."

Kryger shrugged impassively. "It's late at night, it's cold, and we're both tired. But okay, go ahead."

"Where did you learn to swing a sword like that? Unlike most folks I've seen using a sword, I can see you're skilled with it. Do soldiers like you use weapons like that a lot before the bombs fell?"

"Hardly. I was given a choice to be taught how to properly use an officer's sabre after I made it to lieutenant... they even taught me how to use a sabre while on horseback. My colleagues said I needed a hobby besides reading language books, so I took it up."

Preston nodded. "You said you were frozen in that Vault you mentioned. Did anyone else make it out alive with you?"

Kryger was expecting that sort of question, but he couldn't ever prepare himself fully for it. "At first... but people I couldn't recognize one day broke inside the Vault after it was abandoned by the staff. They killed my wife and kidnapped my son... I've been trying to find him ever since I got shaken out of cryogenic suspension."

"I'm... sorry to hear that." The Minuteman looked down. "If you ever need my help, never hesitate to ask me, Kryger. It's the least I could do after everything you've done for us."

"I could use directions for a start." The major said. "Do you know anyone that could help me out or at least set me on the right path to finding my son?"

At that, Preston thought the answer was easy. "I hope you're not one to balk at the things she specializes in, but I'm sure Mama Murphy could help you out even if you do."

* * *

 **The following day...**

In the morning, after Codsworth had thoroughly washed himself and his master's coat free of any raider blood, he wandered into town to check on Kryger. But after thirty minutes of looking around, the major was nowhere to be found around Sanctuary Hills.

Codsworth was just about to give up and call it a day, when he managed to pass by Sturges' usual spot near the power armor garage. The mechanically-inclined settler was, as usual, chewing on a piece of razorgrain when he hollered at the robot.

"Codsworth!" Sturges greeted the Mister Handy as he neared. "Lookin' for yer boss? I saw him heading towards the ol' Vault real early in the morning, carryin' construction supplies an' whatnot. He's probably still somewhere around there right now."

"Thank you, good sir." Codsworth quickly gave his thanks to the settler and immediately headed off to Vault 111, as cheerful as ever.

Eventually, after a few more minutes of traveling, Codsworth's sensors picked up Kryger's distinctive biological signature just northeast of the Vault. Codsworth followed the trail, navigated the woods, crossed a pond and eventually made it to the man himself... who was hard at work using a shovel to bury a large, partially-filled hole in the ground.

"Major, I've finished washing and drying your coat for you!" The Mister Handy floated over to his master, his heavy greatcoat draped over his central housing. "You might find it a little warmer than usual because of the lingering radiation in the river, but— wait, are you...?"

"Hey, buddy..." Kryger set his shovel down and drearily wiped a bit of sweat from his brow as the robotic butler approached. "I'm just... doing what no husband and friend should ever do..."

Codsworth promptly lost all cheer and mirth upon hearing those few words from Kryger. As he neared him, Codsworth eventually saw a wooden Star of David and a cross lying side by side on the ground, and he soon came to notice that the hole Kryger was standing over was, in fact, a makeshift grave.

"Sir..." The Mister Handy moved next to his master.

"I never did get to say farewell to her." Kryger looked down, blankly staring at Kathérine's grave. "I never even had the chance to tell her I loved her before she was murdered."

"I... I'm sure the missus n-needed no confirmation of your love, sir." Codsworth was on the verge of bursting into tears again, but he kept strong for his master's sake. "I'm just a simple robotic butler, but even I could see that you loved her until the very end. Wherever she is now, I'm sure she's pleased to see that you still hold loyal to her... even now."

"I hope you're right..." Kryger said. He seemed less depressed now. "Look, I know it's in your programming to console me, but... thank you, Codsworth. You've always been a good friend to us."

"You're very welcome, sir. I live for nothing but to serve your family after all, hah hah!" Codsworth forced out a laugh to brighten the mood. "Now, shall I assist you with preparing her grave, sir?"

"Sure thing," The major smiled and nodded. "I hope all the sap hasn't gotten your gears clogged by now. It can get pretty hard to clean out."

Over the next few minutes, Codsworth helped Kryger secure the wooden Star of David headstone over Kathérine's grave, careful not to disturb it. Soon, after a few more minutes of work, the two of them finished a proper enough resting place for Kathérine Kryger.

"A quiet moment to honor our tragic loss, sir?" Codsworth meekly suggested, to which the major nodded,

"Yes... just what I was thinking." Kryger took off his peaked cap and placed it over his heart, bowed his head and performed the sign of the cross.

Kryger and Codsworth spent an entire five minutes in companionable, respectful silence over Kathérine's gravesite. For that moment in time, nothing else mattered except for the memories they all shared while she was still alive.

Codsworth politely observed his master as he mumbled a prayer for his late wife in Polish. "...The world is indeed lesser for her death, but if... if you don't m-mind me asking... is the cross for Master Shaun?" The Mister Handy dared to ask after Kryger finished.

Kryger looked to the robot and shook his head firmly, "No, it's for somebody else who died a long time ago... someone who didn't hesitate to stand against injustice and corruption wherever he saw it... someone I'm proud to consider a model soldier and a brother."

"Ah, an old war comrade. Who would it be for, sir?"

The major walked over and picked up the wooden cross, showing the name, rank and service number etched into it for Codsworth to see.

"He probably died without anyone to mourn him, just like many others when the nukes dropped. Now, I think it's time Captain Roger Maxson gets the closest thing we have to a proper military send-off..."

* * *

 _Disclaimer and A/N:_

The Fallout franchise is property of Bethesda Softworks, LLC. All rights reserved, I own nothing except for the device I used to slowly and methodically type little scribbles with.

Anyway, the next chapter, which is significantly longer than this one, should deal with Diamond City plus Piper, maybe Nick, and the first encounter with Recon Squad Gladius (Danse's Commonwealth advance team). Until next time.


	4. A Moment of Your Time, Please

**Outside Diamond City, the Commonwealth**

"Oh, hell..." Diamond City's most prominent newswriter, Piper Wright, kicked the dust from under her boot. "One moment I'm out trying to scavenge parts for my hotplate and you ingrates lock me outside!"

She stood just beyond one of Diamond City's distinctive green metal gates, all by herself carrying a pack heavy with random junk and in grave danger of being ambushed by the local super mutant patrols.

 _I bet ten caps this is McDonough's work,_ the reporter thought to herself as she carefully approached the intercom beside the gate. "Hey, Danny! It's me, Piper! Open the gates and let me through!"

The intercom crackled to life. "Piper? Oh, shit." Shuffling sounds and equipment being dropped and lugged around were heard. "Ah— I, uhm... we can't open the gate, Ms. Wright."

"What? Why the heck not?" Piper sighed and leaned in further to the intercom. "Stop playing around, Danny, I'm standing out here in the open for crying out loud! The Frankensteins are gonna come and lynch me any moment now!"

She didn't notice a lone wanderer arriving, impassively listening in on her conversation.

"I've got orders not to let you in," The gatekeeper's voice continued, sounding exasperated now. "I'm sorry, I'm just doing my job!"

 _Definitely McDonough. I owe myself ten caps now,_ "Oooh, "just doing your job!". Protecting Diamond City means keeping me out, is that it? Oh ho ho, look! It's the _scary_ reporter with her uncomfortable truths! Boo!"

"I'm sorry, but you really got the mayor steamed now, Piper. He said that article you wrote was all lies." Sullivan said, sighing. "The whole city's in a tizzy."

 _Whoever says "tizzy" anymore? Jeez, Danny._ "Argh, you open this gate right _now_ , Danny Sullivan! I live here, you can't just... _lock_ me _out!"_

The intercom was quiet. Piper was getting desperate. "Dammit, Danny, OPEN UP!"

No response... Sullivan had probably dropped the link to carry on with whatever he was doing.

After giving her face a thorough get-together with her palm, Piper dropped her heavy pack in a fit of anger and severe annoyance. Seeing that she would be stuck outside for a long while, making a run for it when the muties come would be a lot easier while unencumbered.

"This... this is Diamond City?"

"Huh!" Piper flinched a bit at the voice. Turning around to it, what she immediately saw made both her brows arch up in surprise and more than a little bit of curiosity.

The strange man was dressed exactly like a pre-war army officer out on parade, showing off the various decorations hanging on his body like a Christmas tree. Over his left arm was a pip-boy, and strapped to his body were various field equipment such as an army pack, a bandolier filled with fusion cells, an automatic laser rifle, a mundane 10mm sidearm, and even what looked like a slightly curved, sheathed sword.

"It's safe inside?" He asked, mostly to himself. His arms were folded over his chest, and his eyes were scanning the fortified city walls like a Railroad spy — looking for any gaps and weaknesses that could be exploited.

Piper made a small whimpering noise. He'd take an entire week just listing out all the holes and corroded sections all over "the Wall", as locals like herself called it.

"Yeah, it _should_ be, but it's a much different story out here... in the open." The reporter frowned, adopting an annoyed expression as she mimicked the way he folded his arms.

"Hmm." The man then turned his sights to her, studying her. His gaze felt heavy, like he was gauging her as a potential threat. "I can handle myself just fine, ma'am, but do tell me... why were you thrown out of the city?"

 _Curious fellow,_ "Because the man who's supposed to be the mayor wasn't a fan of free speech! He tried _repeatedly_ to censor my press because I wanted to draw attention to the synth problem, and Mayor McDonough thinks my work is _ridiculous!_ Can you believe it?"

Piper scoffed, shaking her head. "The only reason someone like McDonough would _actively_ try to downplay the threat of the Institute is because he's a synth himself! Or, at the very least, he's working for the Institute!"

The stranger tilted his head to the side slightly. "The... synth problem? The Intitute? What're you talking about?"

Piper's head almost exploded. "What! How could you have _not_ heard of the Institute, or even know about synths? Literally everyone I've run into over the years at least know some facts about them!"

She sighed, she was running her mouth off again. "Sorry... you're not from around here, are you?"

"I am," He insisted. "I just haven't caught up with the recent events. Why don't we pass the time by getting me up to speed about those subjects, then? I can make it worth your while."

"Oh no, making you aware of the dangers the Institute poses is enough for me." She said. "For starters..."

The reporter then proceeded to educate her new company all about the Institute and the synthetic men — synths — that they create. She told him about the Broken Mask incident, and about how citizens of the Commonwealth have started disappearing before reappearing again, only to be discovered to be replaced by synths from the Institute.

More than three-quarters of an hour passed when Piper ended her lesson, satisfied in her knowledge that another uninformed Commonwealth citizen was made aware of the situation plaguing the Commonwealth for many years.

"I see." The man thoughtfully nodded. He was still standing as he was forty-five minutes ago, perfectly still and seemingly comfortable with all the junk weighing him down.

"Wow, I think got a little caught up in the moment there." In contrast, Piper had taken a nearby abandoned stool to sit on twenty minutes into her impromptu lesson. "I'm surprised super mutants haven't ambushed us yet, heh heh."

The man put a hand to his chin. "A... super mutant?"

 _Oh, boy._ "You seriously haven't seen or even heard of super mutants? Frankensteins? Muties? Hulking, cannibalistic bastards with anger issues, bad grammar and brains the size of peanuts? Come on, are you kidding me?"

"I'm new to this post-apocalyptic stuff, give me a break." He snarked. "If you're not just playing me for an idiot while I'm being oblivious about it, I suppose I'll get to meet these synths and super mutants soon enough."

"You betcha." She smirked, snapping her fingers. "You know, you strike me as someone who looks prepared for anything and everything the wastes can throw at you with all that ju— _equipment_ , you're carrying. I never thought you'd be a poor lost lamb in a wolf's den, Green."

"Back then, I thought I was prepared for any eventuality, too..." He laughed quietly, though his gray eyes were distant and muddied. "...guess I was wrong."

Piper would've asked him to elaborate, when suddenly, the Diamond City gate started to open again — the thick metallic sheet blocking the way was slowly lifted from the ground, revealing a way inside.

"Well, that was quicker than I imagined." Piper stood up. "And here I was, thinking we could get inside by having you pretend to be a merchant from Quincy."

He noticeably paused and took the time to study the entrance. Piper looked to where he was staring at and sure enough, there were a few security guards here and there as well as the Sullivan the gatekeeper.

What got the reporter's attention most, however, was her little sister Natalie sitting on one of the steps at the front.

"After you, ma'am." Piper turned to see the greencoated man indicating for her to head inside the entrance first. "This is your town, after all."

"Thanks," She heeded to his request, taking the lead after shouldering her pack. "Nice to see chivalry still hasn't been killed off by the nukes. I don't suppose you'd like to carry my pack and fix my hotplate for me, too?"

He nodded. "In exchange for a bit of information, I could."

"Jeez, Green, I was being sarcastic." Piper chuckled a bit at his expense. "Still, since you're such a nice, polite, _horribly and dangerously_ _naive_ kind of guy, I could—"

"HEY!" Piper heard Nat shout. "You two should stop getting too comfortable out there and head on inside before McDonough hears I used the puppy-eyes on Mr. Sully!"

The gatekeeper sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "Y-yeah. You really should just get in and get out of sight. I don't wanna lose my job because a kid convinced me to open the gate..."

Piper stopped walking and took the man by the epaulette on his coat, pulling him close. "My office is just by the marketplace, near Dr. Sun's medical stand. If you need information or directions around town, I could probably help."

"I'll see you over there, then." He said. "The little girl is getting antsy. We shouldn't keep her waiting."

* * *

Kryger, with a little difficulty, placed his army pack on the counter. "Inside, I have 4 FB-51 mini-nukes, 300 optimized fusion cell units, one fusion core at half charge, and 7 12.7mm JHP magazines with 32 bullets each. What are these worth?"

Arturo Rodriguez, the proprietor of Commonwealth Weaponry, checked inside the pack and nearly toppled himself over in surprise. "Jesus, guy... you just raid a Gunner stash for this? Except for the measly fusion core, you're carrying a fortune in high-quality ammo here! I can't buy everything you have with all the caps I've got!"

"Caps..." Kryger muttered to himself before turning back to the shopkeeper. "Take what you want and pay with as much as you could, then."

Arturo was quick to decide what he needed, though. "Alright, I'll take the fusion core, two mini-nukes and half the fusion cells you've got for eight hundred caps. As much as I'd like to have those sweet, sweet 12.7mm mags, I couldn't afford them, and I'm sure nobody here has any guns big enough to use these bad boys to sell them to."

"We have a deal, then." The major watched as the man swapped some of the things in his pack for a massive pile of... bottle caps. He regretted using the discarded caps he found in Sanctuary for scrap. "Uh, you got a bag I could use to carry all that?"

"That'd be twelve caps," The shopkeeper took back a handful of caps from the pile and procured a brown sack specifically meant for carrying them. "Here, I got you the big one."

Kryger took the bag and hurriedly stashed his new cash pile into it. "Thank you."

He noticed Arturo was looking at him intently, with brows furrowed and jaw clenched tight. "Say, guy, haven't I seen you around here before...? Or do I know you personally? I think I've seen your face a couple of times, but I can't quite place _where_..."

"I'm sure I haven't been to Diamond City before, sir."

"Ah, my mistake. See you when I see you, ammo guy."

Kryger nodded and headed off to Dr. Sun next. After Augustus' needs were tended to, he planned to get supplies he needed to repair Codsworth's central housing with in Diamond City Surplus.

He almost regretted going to the latter. Maybe he'd come back at night.

* * *

After passing by the little girl he saw back at the gate, Kryger knocked at the red door to mark his entrance before heading right in as she told him to. Inside, he found the young woman he met outside Diamond City, scribbling down notes on a crumpled piece of paper.

"Oh, hey, Green." She noticed him entering and turned to him. "Need anything?"

"We could give each other our real names, for starters." He said, taking off the peaked cap from his head as politeness dictated. "Or should I start calling you Red?"

She laughed. "It's Wright. Piper Wright. I kept calling you Green because from how you stand and walk to how you look around for danger before doing pretty much _anything_... you're obviously some kind of soldier."

Kryger nodded. "The uniform is a dead giveaway too, isn't it?"

"Major James Kryger. US Army, Southeast Asia Command, at your service." He introduced himself as he always did. "Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Wright. I've just a few questions I needed answered and I'll be on my way in no time."

Piper didn't answer him, however. In fact, she was giving him the same look Arturo sported when he said he recognized him from somewhere. "Uh, you alright?"

"Major... James... Kryger." The woman mumbled. "US Army." She stayed in a contemplative state until he saw her eyes go wide and here face brighten up; the gears in her head have evidently started turning.

"H-holy shit." She suddenly bolted off deeper into her house and Kryger awkwardly followed after her, wondering what he had gotten himself into.

When he rounded a corner, he found her studiously digging through a desk drawer, shoveling out old junk and papers as she did so. "And what's all this, then?"

She fished out another old piece of paper, this one being significantly moldier and tattered than the last ones. "You've been keeping secrets from me, James Kryger..."

He could only narrow his eyes and silently implore her to continue.

"...you really, _really_ aren't from around here, aren't you?" She showed him the paper, which looked like an old poster dating back from pre-war times. "Recognize this handsome face?"

Kryger tilted his head to the side. On the poster was a picture of a man's face that was heavily vandalized with drawings of flowers, big, anime-styled eyes plus blush lines, a mustache, and a rather clever pencil trick used to make the man's closed, somewhat frowning mouth look as if it was gaping wide open like a fish.

"Nice... illustration..." He couldn't quite figure out what to say.

Piper arched a brow in confusion and retracted the poster. She took a single, cursory glance of it and sighed in exasperation. "Ugh, _Nat_..."

Kryger patiently watched as she put the poster down on the desk, shifted through the various writing equipment inside one of the other drawers, took out an old piece of rubber and used it to erase the various "modifications" on it made by her sister.

" _Now_ do you recognize it?" She displayed the paper for a second time. Judging from the smug grin creeping up to her face, Kryger's significantly less reserved reaction was exactly what she expected from him.

"Oh... hell." Despite the poster's pencil smudges and the wear and tear here and there, he could now discern that it was an ancient US Army recruitment poster, and displayed prominently at the center was a dour-faced, stylized picture of himself, with the headline mentioning his name and Alaskan exploits while imploring foreign-born US citizens to sign up for the armed force.

It appears that even after a devastating nuclear exchange that left mankind almost extinct, Kryger's notoriety still kept preceding him.

"Don't worry, Green, I'll keep your immortality a secret." Piper smirked as Kryger visibly lost all his composure. "But seriously... HOW THE HECK ARE YOU STILL EVEN ALIVE AND COMPLETELY UN-GHOULIFIED?!"

He flinched. "I was... frozen by Vault-Tec. My family was reserved a spot inside Vault 111 in Sanctuary Hills just before the bombs fell, and I only got thawed out recently." He flexed the arm where his pip-boy was attached. "It's also where I got this, in case you're wondering."

"Oh ho ho _ho_..." Piper was rubbing her hands together, a zealous gleam present within her eyes. "Looks like I just hit the motherlode of all news reports here..."

"Excuse me?" Kryger pretended obliviousness. She reminded him of Kathérine quite a lot despite her somewhat misplaced New Yorker accent and sassy demeanor... she made him more than a little bit uncomfortable because of it.

Piper gestured for him to take a seat just as she did so. "Tell you what, Mr. Pre-War Army Poster Boy, how about I set up a little one-on-one interview with you right now? I can make it worth your while... _really_ worth your while."

"I just wanted to ask some questions..." He whined as he reluctantly took a seat.

"I'll take that as a yes!" She beamed. "Now, where do we start, wheredowestart— oh!"

Kryger was forced to watch again as Piper dug into her desk once more. When she finished, she had in her hands a pen and a notebook. "Alright, we should start now. You ready?"

"For what it's worth..." He frowned.

Piper excitedly tapped on her notebook with her pen. "Excellent! By the way, I was gonna ask you about life in the Vault, but you said you were frozen for the entirety of your family's stay in Vault 111, so I'd scratch that off my list."

She kept to her thoughts for a brief while. "Instead... I'll ask you this: what made you take up your dangerous occupation? Could you describe life in the pre-war United States military, or at least pre-war life in general?"

"My father was a career soldier in the Polish-Lithuanian defense force, so when my family immigrated to the States, I decided to follow in his footsteps by enlisting." Kryger recalled. "Life in the army was... well, on the other hand you have a high-paying job with lots of opportunities to make new friends and go on exotic trips to other countries overseas... but then you get shot and stabbed at before you could get to sightseeing."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Civilian life... it was great back then, I guess. My family had a decent house in the suburbs, good weather and plenty of food. Everything you could possibly need could be easily tended to... but then the country went to war."

He frowned at the memories. "In an instant, everyone went from being friendly and accommodating, to paranoid, xenophobic and jingoistic. Being the son of a pair of immigrants, I was discriminated against by my own neighbors despite all I've done for the country, and it got even worse when I settled down with a woman from overseas. Can you believe that she couldn't even find a solid job because every news station in Boston threw her out when they heard how she talked?"

He sighed. "My superior officer in the Army, General Constantine Chase, hated my wife not only because she's French, but because she had some dirt on him. He even threatened to discharge me from duty just because of my choice to marry her. If it weren't for the fact that he couldn't spare any able officer, he definitely would've gotten me removed. My job was the only thing keeping our family afloat, and if I lost it, we'd be screwed."

Piper was appalled at the thought. "Wow... so it wasn't so easy-peasy for outsiders in the United States even before the bombs went and burned everything down. I never thought people from the Commonwealth before the war could be so narrow-minded like that..."

"I'm sorry I ruined your image of the old world for you." He said, shrugging. "One other thing: it wasn't hard just for foreigners and people like me — everyone in the country had it hard. Between the energy and food shortages, the constant government surveillance, the apathy and corruption of the police forces countrywide, the unending riots with martial law on top of all that... I guess you could say life for everyone before Armageddon was hardly a walk in the park."

"Enlightening..." Piper flipped a page from her notepad after she finished her notes. "Alright, next question: you probably came here to Diamond City for a purpose. What would that be?"

Kryger paused for a second. "Well, I have a wounded man in need of medical treatment and a damaged robot in need of repairs back in Sanctuary, but the former couldn't walk, and the latter could be of better use elsewhere, so I headed down here for supplies such as meds, chems and things such as adhesive, aluminum and ceramic plating."

"That's uh, less interesting than what I imagined..." She grumbled, writing her notes.

He shook his head, "That's not the main reason I visited the city, though. Back while my family was still frozen inside that Vault I mentioned, a pair of strangers broke into the place one day and... murdered my wife, Kathérine. They also took my son Shaun away, and now I'm here in Diamond City to find help locating him before it's too late."

"Oh... I'm sorry I made you remember those memories, Mr. Kryger." She took the time to stop writing down things and apologize to him sincerely. "I can't even begin to imagine what it's like to be in your shoes... it must've been horrible."

"It was, Ms. Wright. Why don't we just proceed with the next question?" He requested.

"I'm more than happy to." She nodded as she flipped to another page. "Do you think that the Institute was somehow involved with Kathérine's murder as well as Shaun's kidnapping?"

Kryger took some time to think on what would be his answer. "No, I don't think so. They have no quarrel with my family — I never even knew they existed until you told me all about them. I really don't have any sort of clue as to who did this to us, and why."

Piper gave him a look of incredulity. "The Institute doesn't _need_ to have bad blood with your family or even a good reason before their synths could choose either one of you as their next target, Mr. Kryger. One moment you're just the harmless local beggar down the street, and before you everyone knew about it, you've already been killed and replaced by a synth double acting as the perfect spy for other tin cans in disguise."

The reporter shook her head, frowning. "It's that bad when it comes to the Institute. Believe me."

He was still skeptical of the whole synth business, but he didn't want to antagonize her, so he played along. "If that's the case, then they might very well be behind my problems as you say."

To his surprise, she actually picked up on his insincere tone. "Green, please don't get me wrong. I'm not crazy enough to believe the Institute is behind _everything_ bad going on in the Commonwealth like Myrna down at the marketplace, but there's a really good chance they're behind everything that's happened to you. Think on it."

Kryger observed Piper sort out through all her new notes before continuing, "Okay, this is the big one. For this final question, I'd like to do something different; I want you to make a statement to Diamond City directly."

"I'm ready as I'll ever be." He nodded.

Piper locked eyes with him, brown against gray. "The threat of kidnapping is all but ignored here, in the Commonwealth. Everyone wants to pretend it just doesn't happen. What would you say to someone out there who has lost a loved one, but might be too scared, or too numb to the world, to look for them?"

The major looked off to the side, but he didn't hesitate to speak his mind. "If you have any desire — any at all, to see the ones you love once again, then you should never give in to despair... no matter bleak the situation may be. You may also think giving yourself to hate and anger might get them back, but you only risk losing yourself in the end."

His voice grew less sullen and more focused. "They say hope could only ever lead to crushed expectations and disappointment, but why bother doing anything at all without hope? I say hold on to hope... use it to give you the strength and motivation to wake up each day and drive yourself ever forward until you find them again..."

Kryger, despite himself, drew his eyes to look back at Piper. "...just as I plan to do. One way or another, I'll get my son back home... for Kathérine."

"And that pretty much wraps it up." Piper closed her notebook, satisfied. "You've given me more than I could ever hope for, Green. Thank you."

"It really was my pleasure, Ms. Wright." He solemnly nodded as he stood up. "But I should go. I still have to find my son, I'm afraid."

Piper suddenly took off from her seat just as well. "Wait, didn't I say I was going to give you something in exchange for that interview we just did?"

Before Kryger could talk back, she started speaking again. "There's a small building near the Swatters shop with a neon sign of a heart pierced by an arrow. Nick Valentine is a detective, and he's been around a missing person case or a few dozen. I'm sure he'll be able to help you find Shaun."

"Find the bright heart..." Kryger muttered, remembering what Mama Murphy told him back at Sanctuary Hills. "So _that's_ what she meant."

"You're starting to talk to yourself there, Green." The major got himself a little shake of the epaulette from Piper. "Anyway, I've been thinking that since you're relatively new to the Commonwealth and I actually want you to _succeed_ instead of dying alone in a radioactive ditch somewhere, how about I pack my things up here and we walk out the door together?"

"You're volunteering to join me?" Kryger didn't expect to hear that from a reporter. "Not to be rude, but I'll have you know that I'll probably be shot and stabbed at just as often in the coming days as back before the nukes. Wouldn't you rather be safe here with your sister?"

"I can take care of myself _and_ watch your back much better than other people." She seemed confident. "Before Natalie and I gathered enough caps to move here in Diamond City, our father was a member of our community's local militia. He taught me a lot about guns and surviving out there in the wastes."

Piper smirked. "Trust me, you may have all that pre-war army training and that load of gear you're hauling around, but you _still_ wouldn't want to get on my bad side. I can get quite... nasty."

"Well, you've never seen me in action either." He told her, quietly. "Since you're so adamant about it, then alright. I'll wait while you sort things out from here."

"Great! I won't keep you waiting for long."

Kryger looked on as Piper scurried off and started stuffing things she thought she'd need into a backpack. For some reason, her "field equipment" consisted mostly of sweets, junk food and other pre-packaged snacks.

"That's a lot of sugar you're carrying there." The major dryly observed as Piper approached him after finishing with packing. "Do we have something of a sweet tooth here?"

"A _massive_ sweet tooth." She responded. "I'm all set and good to go. Off we go to Nick's then?"

He smiled. "After you, then."

* * *

 _A/N und Haftungsausschluss:_

Alright, I changed my mind about meeting Nick and Danse this chapter. Turns out, trying to write Piper exactly as she is in-game is harder than it looks. Next chapter should deal with a few Brotherhood things and a guest appearance from a certain scribe from the Mojave (she's tired of West Coast doctrine).

Thanks for the support, people!

Fallout 4 (otherwise known as the "Shaun-Finding Simulator V.2", "Ethan Mars' Post-Apocalyptic Nightmare", and "SHAAAAAAAAUN!") and the Fallout franchise is property of Bethesda Softworks, LLC. All rights reserved, I own nothing depicted in the story.


	5. Roger's Legacy

Heya, here's an update.

Just an FYI, I changed the layout of the Cambridge Police Station a little — I made the walled yard where Danse's team is beset by feral ghouls a lot bigger, wider and more open than it is in-game just to accommodate a larger, more drawn-out engagement. I hope this fact doesn't ruin the chapter somewhat.

* * *

 **Brotherhood-controlled airspace above Adams AFB, the Capital Wasteland**

Senior Scribe Veronica Santangelo, the Mojave Chapter's liaison to the East Coast Chapter, gaped in awe as she was ferried around the exteriors of the Prydwen by a VB-02 vertibird. She was so caught up by the sight of the post-war airship, that she only noticed her notebook slipping from her hands when it was already too late.

"Darn it!" She exclaimed in frustration as the notebook slid down from the floor and straight out of the aircraft. It plummeted in the air and met with the cracked pavement with a muffled clunk, startling a nearby patrol of knights on the runway.

"Nothing too important on that notebook, I hope?" Sentinel Winters loaded up on Nuka-Cola and promptly wiped her mouth. "Nothing Elder McNamara would miss?"

"Oh, sure." Veronica sank on her seat, folded her arms and pouted. "Just reports on your chapter's overall combat strength, organizational integrity, personnel morale... and crude drawings of your posterior."

"Hmph. Nothing important then." Winters shrugged as she turned to the vertibird pilot. "Gideon, set us down at the airship docks. I think our liaison has seen enough of the Prydwen from the outside."

"Will do, sentinel." Lancer-Sergeant Gideon complied, lurching his craft aside and around to dock with the gargantuan Brotherhood zeppelin. "Anyway, ma'am, I think I just got a message from Elder Maxson just then! He said he wants to see Senior Scribe Santangelo in the bridge so she could personally bring him to to speed on the Mojave."

Winters nodded. "I'll escort her there, then."

In a moment, the aircraft touched down on the Prydwen vertibird docks and its occupants quickly departed.

"Word to the wise, Santangelo," Before they could proceed any further, Winters took the other woman by the shoulder with a power armored gauntlet. "If you're not wearing power armor with magnetic soles, I suggest you hold on to the railings whenever you're in this area. The wind gets strong here at times, and Proctor Ingram's petition to install taller railings around the vertibird docks was denied just recently because of resource concerns."

"I'll... keep that in mind, sentinel." Veronica gulped. "Not that I don't enjoy your company, but we shouldn't keep Elder Maxson waiting."

"Agreed, scribe." Winters started to trudge forward to the bridge. "Let's get moving."

* * *

 **Sanctuary Hills at night, the Commonwealth**

"Heya, major!" Sturges stood up, dusting his hands off. "Yer back!"

"Evening, Sturges." Kryger nodded as he approached the front entrance to Sanctuary Hills. How the mechanically-inclined settler managed to stay perfectly fine in the cold evening temperatures with just a pair of work overalls and a tattered shirt perplexed the major.

"So how was your visit? Did'ja find what you're lookin' for in Diamond City?"

"I've got the goods, found a decent lead on Shaun, and even picked up a tag-along on the way back here. It was quite the productive visit, wasn't it, Piper?"

From behind Kryger's shoulder, Piper gave Sturges a little wave. "Don't mind me, I'm just a big fan of his."

The major smirked. "Anyway, it looks like I'm not the only one busy working. Where did you get a functioning laser turret grid and a generator to power the guns with?" He indicated at the objects in question.

Beside Sturges, there were three automated, laser-spewing sentry turrets each connected to a smoke-belching, ramshackle power generator at some distance away. The turrets themselves seem to be strategically placed so as to cover an area as large as possible.

"While you were away, Preston, Codsworth and Jun ran all over the place scavengin' junk an' spare parts. They've completely cleaned out the Red Rocket Station an' nabbed a few useful things from the rusty USAF radar dish a little ways to the northwest before they were chased away by Ack-Ack's raider crew. The next day, they avoided the dish entirely an' salvaged a whole lotta materials and scrap metal from the abandoned robot junkyard just east of it!"

Sturges seemed happy to have something mechanical to work on. "Once the three of 'em finished haulin' all the shit they've found back here in town, Augustus got up an' told 'em how to set up these turrets from your spare laser rifles at the basement an' generators from broken down electronics!"

"Really now?" Kryger was very pleased to hear that.

Sturges nodded and continued, "That's goddamn right he did. We erected one other turret grid like this one behind Sanctuary Hills, so we don't have to worry too much about them raiders no more!"

"Well, if the old man went and drank half of everything in my cellar, I guess he deserves it for a job well done! I just hope he shared the beer with Preston and Jun." The major chuckled.

"Shame Codsworth's a robot." Sturges wryly smiled. "'Course, if you're lookin' to get ol' Augustus some of those meds you're carryin', he's probably still down there, restin' his legs."

"And Preston?"

"Patrollin' the area. He should be by the river."

"Codsworth?"

Sturges scratched his cheek. "Last I saw him, he was—"

"I'm right here and at your service once more, sir!" Codsworth floated up from behind the mechanic. After greeting his master, the Mister Handy robot was quick to notice Piper just a few steps behind. "And who is _this_ we all have the pleasure of being in her presence?"

Kryger was a bit surprised by the significant amount of grime and 5mm bullet-holes now covering almost every inch of Codsworth's central housing, adding to the trio of claw-marks the deathclaw made. It definitely seemed as if Preston took advantage of his resilient, non-organic nature to soak up small arms fire while they were being hounded by raiders around USAF Satellite Station Olivia.

"Reporter Piper Wright. Publick Occurences, Diamond City." Piper mimicked Kryger's introduction down to his abrupt manner of speaking and accent. "I just learned that Major Kryger here is in fact a pre-war relic, and is apparently _not_ human for having lived this long without looking all ghoulish. How do you respond to that, Mr. Codsworth?"

The robot laughed heartily. "So nice to make your acquaintance, Ms. Piper! Heh heh, I do say, how did you manage to come across my master here?"

"I told her about Shaun and she volunteered to accompany us, buddy." Kryger replied for her.

"Pitied you, more like." She snarked.

Codsworth moved closer to Kryger. "My, my. This one has _quite_ the acerbic tongue..."

"You'll get used to it after a while." Kryger said, rather offhandedly. "Anyway, I need you to go find the Minuteman, Preston. Tell him to meet with us down the cellar, where Augustus is supposed to be. We're going on a trip tomorrow, and I want everyone briefed and geared up before we leave."

"I'll get right on it, sir!" The robot did a little salute before promptly hovering away.

"So, let me get this straight: now that all your bigoted neighbors are dead, you pretty much own Sanctuary Hills now?" Piper questioned as she looked around while following the major forward. "Should I be calling you Major Kryger or _Mayor_ Kryger? What about Major Mayor Kryger? It has a nice ring to it."

Kryger somewhat disapproved of too much chatter, but he could use a little reprieve from all the devastation he'd seen while traveling toward Diamond City and back again. "I don't "own" Sanctuary Hills, Piper. I just live here just like the rest of these new settlers."

"Aw, you're just being modest. What do you think of... _Overlord_ Kryger?"

"Too subtle. Try Imperator Kryger."

Piper chortled. "Hah! I "witness" where you're getting at there, Green."

"Hmph." Kryger allowed himself a half-smile as he climbed up his doorsteps, passed by the ruined doorway and walked over the blackened door.

"Nice place." As they ambled by it, the reporter ran a finger against the kitchen tabletop and got black soot all over it. "Needs a bit of refurbishing, though."

"That's the plan." The major nodded as they descended down towards the basement and entered the armory. "We'll make Sanctuary Hills livable again."

After leaving the armory through an intact door leading to another part of the basement, the two of them were greeted by the sight of Augustus sitting on the floor with his back to the wall. His new sniper rifle lay on the floor near him, disassembled into its basest components.

"Major." The scavenger briefly set his sights from his gun and to Kryger. "You've returned. Do you have what I need?"

His blue-green eyes were normally sharp and hawk-like in appearance; they belied his long years of wasteland and combat experience. But now, it looked dull and unfocused; rendered muddy by the large amounts of alcohol coursing through his veins.

Kryger removed his pack and took out a small brown bag from out of it.

"Everything you need's in this doctor's bag. I'm trying to ration stimpaks and Med-X, but if you need them, Codsworth will tend to you. It's the least we could do after all the work you've done while I'm away."

"No, this will do." Augustus mumbled as he took the bag from Kryger. "Since we're even now, you can expect me to be up and out of your way tomorrow morning. I've already overstayed my welcome."

The major arched a brow, "And where will you go from here?"

Augustus heaved a bitter laugh. "You've been around. Where's the nearest super mutant camp from here?"

Kryger crouched down to Augustus' level while Piper observed. "Don't you have something better to do than waste your life wandering out there in the wastes? I believe there's still some strength left in you, old man, and I'd be glad to give you the chance to direct it to a good cause."

"Your offering to take me with you." The scavenger bluntly said. "To help you find your son and take him back from his kidnappers."

"Precisely." Kryger nodded. "I'll make it so that you get paid adequately for services rendered, and while you're under my employ, you won't ever need to scavenge for food again."

Augustus was silent. Kryger would've taken his response for a negative one, when the door to the room swung open, revealing Preston and Codsworth.

"Evening, major." Preston neutrally greeted. "Codsworth said a new face volunteered to come travel with us. All the better with more people, I say."

"And you must be the last remaining Minuteman Kryger told me so much about. Sorry for your loss." Piper evenly responded without any snark — a rare moment.

"Thank you, but I don't intend to keep it that way, ma'am." Preston said, before turning to Kryger. "You've called us, and now we're all here. What would you have us do?"

Kryger stood up and motioned for everyone sans Augustus to gather around while he positioned himself in front of them, addressing them like he did his captains and lieutenants back in the day.

"Before anyone asks, I've already been to Diamond City, but I never took to the main road; it's too dangerous for a single person to travel alone. Instead, I went further east and followed the tracks from Bedford Station, eventually ending up southwest of the settlement. Using this lesser-traveled route, I managed to avoid encountering large raider groups or any other hostile parties."

Kryger habitually checked to see if the others were still listening, only continuing after he was sure he had their attention.

"...while inside Diamond City, with Piper's assistance, I've been able to hear about a detective that could help me locate Shaun. Unfortunately, this detective was nowhere to be found in his office, and the only person there — his personal secretary — told us that he's likely being held captive by a local gang hiding out under Park Street Station, inside an unfinished Vault. If this woman's information is correct, our detective, Nick Valentine, would be guarded by two or three platoons' worth of—"

"What's a platoon?"

Kryger flinched. "...a unit typically composed of 15 to 30 men, Ms. Wright."

Piper nervously chuckled as Preston and Codsworth gave her awkward looks. "Whoa, that's... heh, a whole lotta Triggermen we'd be going up against..."

"Indeed," The major slowly nodded. "After learning of Mr. Valentine's unfortunate circumstances, I decided the two of us should head back to Sanctuary first instead of immediately going off to rescue our detective from the Triggermen... because we needed more people on our side, and that'd be utterly stupid."

"An astute choice if I may say so myself, sir!" Codsworth piped in. "But do please go on."

"Right," The major started to pace back and forth. "As I've said, the objective will be heavily defended, and they won't be as pitifully weak as the doped-up raiders and junkies some of us have dispatched at Concord. I'm asking you to come with me to certain danger, but I'm not ordering you to. It'd be nice to have people watching my back, but I won't hesitate to go in alone if nobody volunteers."

"So..." He stopped and looked to the gathered group of three humans and a robot. "...who wants to be part of a squad?"

"I'm always ready to assist you in any way, sir! It's in my programming!" Codsworth need not be asked.

Preston was just as quick. "I already offered you my help in finding your son, didn't I? Of course I'm with you."

Piper shrugged. "Since I could see that everybody's going with it, why not? We could use a little less Triggermen running around, anyway."

Kryger briefly smiled. But the old man still hadn't spoken a word. "Augustus?"

The scavenger only stared at them.

Kryger sighed at that, mildly disappointed. "I'll take that as a no, though I won't try to change your decision. I wish you luck wherever you go, old man, and I hope you find what you're looking for."

Augustus kept silent.

* * *

 **The Prydwen Command Bridge, Adams AFB**

"—troopers have started setting up camps all around the Hidden Valley bunker, and despite the treaty of mutual cooperation our chapter negotiated with them years ago just after we helped them drive the Legion out of Nevada, it appears that hostilities are just about to erupt between the Mojave Chapter and the NCR..."

Veronica sighed ruefully. "... _again._ "

Maxson thoughtfully nodded, a hand supporting his bearded chin. "How long do you think McNamara would last holding out against rangers and troopers, senior scribe?"

"At the most, elder? Probably an entire month." The scribe said. "Since we don't recruit locals into our ranks like you do, our numbers haven't really climbed back up to levels before HELIOS 1. That's why Elder McNamara assigned me to act as a liaison between our chapters; he wants me to convince you to help us take the fight to the NCR when things get exciting... and ugly."

The East Coast elder narrowed his eyes. "You know I can't spare the time to help, scribe. Our chapter is just about to embark on an expedition to Massachusetts, or the "Commonwealth", as the locals there called it."

"I know, but that's scheduled 8 months from now! You have plenty of time to assign us extra paladins and... uh, knights... to help defend Hidden Valley in case of NCR attack!"

"You know that "extra paladins and knights" are not going to make that much of a difference when you're outnumbered fifteen to one, Santangelo. HELIOS 1 made that clear." Sentinel Winters chimed in from the back, folding her arms.

"We all know what your chapter _really_ wanted: the Prydwen in the Mojave."

Veronica looked from Maxson and to her, desperation plainly written on her face.

"Why, _yes._ It would actually be so damn great to have an unstoppable mobile military base and aircraft carrier flying around and obliterating entire battalions of NCR soldiers with swarms of vertibirds carrying soldiers! Hell, why should we stop there and let the Prydwen do all the work? Your giant commie-smasher robot would singlehandedly wipe out the bad half of California if you let him!"

"Now you're just being ridiculous." Maxson shook his head. "The Mojave is located on another side of the continental United States. Having the Prydwen travel from here to Nevada will consume unfeasible amounts of fuel, manpower and resources that would've been better put to use elsewhere. As for Liberty Prime, the parts needed to repair him have all but run out in Maryland, and his only hope of ever coming back online lies in the Commonwealth."

Maxson sighed, "As you can see, we are in no position to help you, scribe."

"All the West Coast chapters are either in disarray or in hiding after the NCR had its way with them! Your chapter is the only one still powerful enough to provide any sort of help!" Veronica was now past the point of desperation. "The Mojave Chapter will die without your support, elder. Of that, you can be sure of."

Maxson slowly turned around and put his hands on the railing. "...I'm sorry, Senior Scribe Santangelo. But as I've said, it isn't in the East Coast Chapter's best interests to go to war with the strongest continental power at this time."

Veronica sighed and lowered her head as Maxson continued, "It pains me to carry on as my brothers to the west desperately struggle against the might of the Two-Headed Bear, but as it is, the high elder himself would support me in my choice. Our expedition to the Commonwealth will proceed as planned, and soon, this chapter will unite the entire eastern seaboard against the NCR."

The elder turned back to Veronica, who looked utterly crushed and resigned to her situation. "I regret to condemn so many of our own to their deaths, but there _will_ be a reckoning, Santangelo. The Bear hasn't learned from the mistakes of the past and it cannot be allowed to continue to drag humanity back into the darkness through its blatant misuse of technology."

He held up a clenched fist, not noticing the faint stream of tears falling down the scribe's hooded face. "The Republic will fall to our unwavering force, and our fallen shall soon be avenged. Of _that,_ you can be _very_ sure of."

* * *

 **The Commonwealth, in the morning...**

"Alright, Codsworth..."

Kryger set his spanner down, setting it alongside the pile of ratchets, torque wrenches, various electrical wires, hex keys of varying sizes, buckets of olive green army paint, spare mechanical parts, a portable welding machine and spent 5.56mm bullets.

He used a hex key to slowly open a panel to the side of the robot's central housing. Flipping it open, the major pushed one of the buttons there.

"...Major James?" The Mister Handy rebooted itself and went back online. "Have you done the necessary repairs?"

"Y—" Kryger opened his mouth to talk, when he yawned instead. "—eah. It only took me thirteen hours, but it's okay... you're fully repaired." He closed the panel shut.

"Thirteen hours...!" Codsworth was appalled. His master's breath smelled heavily of coffee. "Good heavens, you must have exhausted yourself tending to me! I thought the maintenance process should only take three hours, not the entire night!"

"I didn't just repair you, buddy." Kryger walked to a nearby vacuum flask and filled his coffee mug with its steaming contents.

"You're now less of a Handy and more a Gutsy. I took three spare R91 rifles, mounted them into your hull and tweaked your combat subroutines to accommodate them. I would've repaired Augustus' minigun and swapped your flamethrower with it, but then I ran out of adhesive and scrap metal."

The major drank into his mug as Codsworth tentatively hovered over to a nearby mirror. His master already told him about his new features, but the robot couldn't ever prepare for the sight that greeted him as his trio of synthetic eyes gazed into the glass.

"You've... you've c-converted _me_ into a—"

"A better killer." Kryger set his mug down a table. "I'm sorry, Codsworth, but if you want to help me find Shaun, I'm going to need a soldier, not a domestic worker. When this is all over, I'll gladly restore you back the way you were before."

There were a couple of light knocks on the door, bringing Kryger and Codsworth into attention. A second later, the door swung open to reveal Preston and Piper, all geared up with guns and a few explosives, belts and bandoliers stacked with ammunition, knapsacks full of essential supplies and rolled up sleeping bags.

"We're all set here, Kryger. Augustus just left, but we don't need him." Preston stepped into the room first.

"Just say the word and... and we'll..." He closed his mouth when the Minuteman saw Codsworth's new look for the first time. "Damn. Is that even still you in there, Codsworth? I almost mistook you for a Gunner Gutsy!"

"While I'm not looking forward to becoming a true Mister Gutsy, I suppose I should get used to being a mobile weapons platform since it's Master Shaun's life on the line." He responded. "Besides, you shouldn't worry about me — I'm perfectly fine, at least physically. My master, on the other hand..."

"I'm alright." Kryger suppressed a yawn as he gathered up his equipment from the floor. "We don't have much time; let's get moving."

"I really, _really_ think you need to slow down there, Green..." Piper tried to stop him with a raised hand. "You sure you don't need at least a few hours of sleep? Honestly, you look like hell."

Kryger ignored her and continued gearing up. "We stand a much better chance against the Triggermen with these new upgrades I installed on Codsworth, and a night's worth of sleep is an acceptable price to pay for that."

"Maybe you should listen to Piper, major. Those bags under your eyes are painful to look at, really." Preston backed up the reporter. "We can wait for at least four more hours. You should rest."

"I'll rest when I'm dead." Kryger was adamant. He picked up his laser assault rifle, loaded fresh fusion cells into it and slung the weapon over his shoulder. "Come on, we don't have much time."

Codsworth, Preston and Piper reluctantly followed Kryger out of the garage he converted into a makeshift repair bay and into the streets. It was still quite early in the morning, the sun hadn't risen fully and the temperature was only a little higher than it was at night. Together, the four of them departed from Sanctuary Hills and followed the disused road from there.

On the first leg of their journey, they passed by the abandoned, scavenged remains of the local Red Rocket Station and navigated through the empty, corpse-filled streets of Concord without trouble. It was only until they heard the gurgling moans coming from an abandoned cabin up ahead that they stopped.

"Hold up." At the front, Kryger held up a closed fist to signal those behind to stop. "Eleven contacts just up ahead. Preston, can you take a look?"

The Minuteman walked up to the major as he unslung his laser musket. "Sounds like feral ghouls, major."

He crouched down and looked straight ahead towards the direction Kryger indicated at using the scope on his gun. "Yep, we got zombies alright. We could put them down or go around them, but that'd take some time."

Kryger nodded and gestured for the two other members of the group to fall in.

"Alright, Codsworth, you're up front... let's see if your new guns are working properly. Piper, since we tried to avoid too much combat on our way back to Sanctuary, I think it's time you show us how good you really are with that pistol."

"On it, sir!" Codsworth moved up without complaint while Piper briefly stopped to glare at Kryger.

"Let's give the two of them some space, Mr. Garvey." The major slowly shuffled back, away from the front. "Who do you think would kill the most ghouls — the heavily armed part Gutsy or the reporter with a 10mm pistol?"

"My money's on Codsworth." Preston said, easily.

"Have a little faith on Ms. Wright." Kryger sounded insincere — sarcastic.

Codsworth didn't even try to be subtle when he rounded a rock formation and started firing all three of his guns, immediately shredding a trio of ghouls caught out in the open. Piper went the other side and emptied half of her magazine on two charging ferals, putting them down with surprising accuracy for a civilian.

The rest of the ghouls shrieked as they shambled or sprinted towards their aggressors. The modified Mister Handy and the reporter kept up the fire, but the ghouls no longer have the capacity to feel afraid for their safety. Another four of them never reached their targets, leaving a single ghoul for Codsworth and Piper to deal with both.

Codsworth simply chuckled as his ghoul fruitlessly pounded at his fortified central housing. With one swing of the rotary saw, the poor ghoul's head was parted from its shoulders. On her end, Piper took six seconds to avoid the rotted, snapping jaws of her ghoul to gather the momentum necessary to overpower it, throwing it to the ground. Before it could recover, she ended its writhing with a bullet to the neck and another to the head.

"Good show, Ms. Piper!" Codsworth hovered up to her. "We make for a good team, and I'm not just telling you this because I'm required to!"

"Aww, thanks, Codsworth! You're a good killbot." It's hard to tell genuine appreciation and sarcasm from Piper.

Preston was grinning and clapping when Kryger started moving forward. "Area cleared. Let's press on."

"Hey!" Piper called him out. "We kicked so much feral ghoul tails for you and that's all you've got to say?"

Kryger stopped, looked behind his shoulder and shrugged.

"We still have a long way to go, Piper. Let's all celebrate once we find and rescue our detective." He turned his back to her and continued forward.

"Jeez," The reporter followed after the major alongside Preston and Codsworth. "I think Kryger needs to _seriously_ loosen up. I actually thought he'd be impressed with all that shooting we've done."

"He's probably just grumpy. A whole day of work without any sleep should do that to anyone." Preston said, shouldering his rifle. "For what it's worth, _I'm_ impressed. You're good with a gun."

"And I don't have any extra guns welded to my forehead like Mister Hatsy here." She looked to Codsworth hovering beside her. "Uh, no offense."

Codsworth bobbed up and down. "None taken, ma'am!"

* * *

 **Elsewhere, a over kilometer away in the Drumlin Diner..**.

Z2-49, an Institute courser, shattered one of the diner windows open with a single punch. He then crouched down and set his modified hunting rifle to rest over the window, facing the road leading northeast.

The courser's handler had earlier tasked him to eliminate a grave threat to his safety. Apparently, _someone_ had chosen to awaken the "backup" from cryosleep, and now that man — a pre-war army officer named James Kryger — was almost sure to come and ruin his handler's day at one point.

Z2-49 was to make sure that day never came by surgically cutting the root of the problem with such precision and tact, that nobody would ever suspect the Institute to be responsible. The courser believed that such a thing could be completed through many means, but he preferred a good application of a single .50 through the target's head at 1,300 yards.

Looking through his scope for almost thirty minutes straight, the courser finally sighted his target. Z2-49 scoffed at the man's foolish choice of dress, which made him stick out from the environment like a sore thumb. He ambled forward at the front of his traveling group of two other humans and a robot, blithely unaware of his impending demise.

"That's right..." The courser muttered as he peered down his scope and chambered a .50 round into his gun. "...keep on marching."

He hovered his crosshairs over the target's head. His face was set in a frown, and there were dark rings around his eyes. Z2-49 smirked; this human could use a little rest... a permanent one.

The courser's finger was sitting just above the curved profile of his gun's trigger. "Should've stayed in that pod, Major Kry—"

A wet, squelching noise reminiscent of something sharp plunging into flesh interrupted Z2-49. Sighing in disappointment, the courser let his rifle slip from his grasp just before he was violently dragged out of the diner through the massive, serrated claws jutting out of his stomach.

* * *

"Heads up, squad. Structure up ahead." Kryger alerted his men after stealing a glance at his pip-boy map. "Codsworth, take the point. Piper, Preston, to me."

Without a word uttered, the Mister Handy floated up to the front of his group, bringing his weapons to hear. The Minuteman and the reporter took to Kryger's flanks, securing them.

"Weapons free." The major quietly whispered as he snaked along the path, flipping the safety switch off his laser rifle. "Maintain sound discipline, engage targets _only_ when fired upon."

"I don't know what the heck's he talking about." Piper worded out to Preston, irritated. "Do all soldiers talk like this?"

"All the time." Preston smirked.

As they approached, Codsworth noticed something peculiar on the ground. "Sir... I think you should come take a look at this!"

"Codsworth, keep your vocalizers down!" Kryger harshly whispered to him. "Anything alive out there? What do you see?"

The robot didn't lower his voice, feeling it rather unecessary. "It's blood, sir... there's a large trail of blood leading out from the diner. There's not a soul to be seen here, but something unmistakably violent happened just then."

"No contacts? Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Kryger straightened up. "Codsworth, Piper, investigate the perimeter. Preston, we'll head inside the diner and see if someone's there."

As the two other members of his group departed to follow the blood trail, Kryger leaned on the diner's doorway in the classic breaching position with Preston on the other side.

"I'll head in first," Preston volunteered. "Watch my back?"

Kryger looked around for a second before nodding at the Minuteman. "Got you covered."

Preston cranked an extra charge into his laser musket, took a deep breath and carefully pushed the door open with the tip of his gun. After he shoved the door fully open, both him and Kryger had to remind themselves to look away at the gruesome scene.

There were four dead people inside the diner, two of them were on the floor, one was leaning against the side of one of the seats, and another was bent over a table on his stomach, as if hugging it.

"No hostiles in sight," Kryger declared, after waiting twenty seconds. "Come on."

Preston followed the major inside, their weapons hanging by their shoulders. When he got closer, the Minuteman grimaced as the apparent method of these people's deaths was made clear.

The ones on the floor, an — older-looking woman and a teenager — had chunks of their torsos blown off by a large caliber round, killing them instantly. The woman leaning against the diner seat suffered the same fate, but she wasn't lucky enough to have died immediately; she likely died in slow agony via exsanguination. As for the one hugging the table... his head was simply gone.

"Poor bastard." Kryger scowled in distaste as he pushed the latter corpse off the table. "What could've happened here?"

"Definitely not raiders... these shots were made by a professional. Gunners aren't behind this, since nothing seemed to be stolen." Preston observed. "Probably a bounty hunter."

"Do bounty hunters make tracks like this?"

Preston looked to what the major was indicating at. The large set of footprints each had two clawed toes and another one that seemed to abruptly end in a stump, looked to be made by some sort of wild animal.

"That... doesn't make sense..." Preston shook his head. "These bodies don't look like they're gnawed upon. What's an animal doing here?"

Kryger frowned, standing up. "We should get moving. We'll search the diner for anything useful and then we'll head on our way."

While Preston would've objected to taking these people's possessions, he knew his group would put them to much better use, being still alive to do so. Besides, sooner or later, someone would come loot the place anyway.

The two men spent ten minutes scavenging the diner for supplies. Together, they found several bullets of different calibers, stimpaks and chems, a respectable amount of food plus water supplies and even a blood-splattered, heavily customized hunting rifle with an ergonomic marksman's stock, an adjustable scope and a suppressor attached to the barrel. Closer inspection of the gun revealed it was chambered for .50 caliber rounds.

Judging from the wounds on the four bodies, this rifle looked to be a perfect candidate for the murder weapon. But what was it doing there, inside the diner? And what of the murderer himself — where was he, and why did he put his possible weapon there?

"Alright, that's everything useful we could take with us." Kryger adjusted the strap on his backpack. "Let's move out, Mr. Garvey. We still have a long way to go."

Outside, Piper and Codsworth could be seen in the distance, evidently discussing something.

"Found something?" Kryger questioned as he and Preston approached the two.

Piper turned and shook her head. "Not a thing. The blood trail just... _ended_ , as if the guy bleeding to death while walking away just up and disappeared into thin air. Poof, just like that."

Codsworth concurred. "And we found no bodies around where the trail ended... just more blood, sir."

"Then there's nothing we could do." Kryger advanced past them, walking ever onward. "Let's keep moving, squad."

"Footslogging again..." Piper muttered to herself, sighing. "Hey, Green, could you at least turn your radio on? It'd make the road ahead less... uh, dreary."

"I... don't see how I can." Kryger looked behind his shoulder, frowning. "I'm not carrying a radio with me, aren't I?"

"No, silly!" The reporter placed her hands on her hips as she marched after him. "That pip-boy on your arm — it can tap into both FM and AM radio stations! I'm not a vault dweller and even _I_ know that."

The major arched a brow and checked to see if the reporter was right. Satisfied to see that she was, he turned his gaze back to her. "I've got a station labeled Diamond City Radio on the line here, and another one called Classical Radio. Which of these do you prefer?"

"Oh, classicals are simply the best!" Piper looked like she was about to respond, but Codsworth, being a robot with enchanced reaction times, was faster.

"I do so love it when Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture plays up on the radio from time to time! The little snippets of La Marseillaise and the sections with live cannonfire are all exhilarating to hear!"

Piper figured a British-accented fussbudget of a Mister Handy robot such as Codsworth would take a liking to snobby classical music, but that didn't mean she shared his sentiments. "Oh _suuure_ , Codsworth. That's great and all, but _real_ music comes from—"

"I like Diamond City Radio, but I think the guy operating it, Travis Miles, needs to be replaced with someone with more talent." Preston spoke up. "I don't like criticizing people, but it's the truth... he's just not cut out for his job. I'll listen to Classical Radio any day... even if nobody can figure out _who_ exactly's operating it."

"Hey!" Piper was very surprised to hear that from the Minuteman. She thought he was such a nice, inoffensive kind of guy. "Travis is doing all his best, Preston! That's a bit harsh coming from—"

"Yeah, I listen to the classics every now and then. Seems like a good choice for a long, _long_ march." Kryger pitched in, after keeping down a yawn.

Piper brought her palm to her face. "I never thought I'd be stuck traveling the Commonwealth with three music snobs for company. Oh, please, somebody shoot me now."

Thus for several hours, the Kryger's group followed the road with very little incident, occasionally having to stop and put down the odd wandering feral ghoul or rabid wasteland animal. On their way to Park Street Station, the four of them passed by a Super Duper Mart branch, the historically-significant but feral ghoul infested settlement of Lexington, the nearby Corvega assembly plant, and finally, the heavily irradiated Jalbert Brothers waste disposal area.

"Sir, my Geiger counter's spiking up in this area. You fleshlings need to get going; you don't want to end up like those few dozen feral ghouls we put down! Hah ha hah!" Codsworth chuckled in an uncharacteristically smug manner as Kryger, Preston and Piper sprinted ahead of his leisurely pace.

"Not funny, Codsworth!" Preston cried out after taking a Rad-X pill.

"Laugh it up, robot!" Piper took the time to briefly turn around and shake her first at the modified Mister Handy.

Kryger kept up with his two other human companions despite his obvious fatigue. He just shook his head at the inappropriate orchestral music streaming out of his pip-boy as they ran towards safety for all their worth.

Once they were in the clear, the three of them waited for Codsworth to slowly catch up. Much to their silent irritation, the robot was clearly taking his time passing through the irradiated barrels, rubbing in his immunity to radiation.

Piper knocked Kryger's epauletted shoulder. "Green, before I lose all my hair, go insane and start trying to eat you, can you change the radio station as my last sane request?"

Kryger wryly smiled. "You _really_ don't like classicals, huh."

He looked down his pip-boy and checked the available stations and signals in the area. As usual, there were those two main radio stations, but a new sub-station caught the major's eye: one titled Military Frequency AF95.

"Hold on, I got something here." He highlighted the new frequency on his device. "AF95 stands for pre-war Commonwealth of Massachusetts army emergencies, and this one looks like it's been set up just recently — two hours ago, in fact."

"Interesting." Preston sauntered over to him, holding his rifle upright. "If it's an actual emergency, then we could probably help whoever sent this signal out."

"This could be a trap set up by raiders to lure good samaritans like us, though." Piper warned. "I've been around, I'm pretty sure things like this have been done before."

Codsworth's trio of eyes focused on Kryger. "Well then, should we ignore the signal and continue on our way just to be safe from potential raider ambushes?"

Kryger was curious, though. "Let's hear it first." He let the frequency stream from his pip-boy.

"—automated message repeat," A female voice came through after a brief period of static. "This is Senior Scribe Olin of Recon Squad Gladius! To ANY unit within transmission range, please respond!"

"Alright, I've heard enough. Let's get the heck out of here." Piper packed up her gear and started walking away.

"Piper, wait for us." Preston calmly called her out. "Even if it's _these_ guys, I'd still hear them out."

Kryger said nothing and continued listening to the rest of the broadcast.

"Authorization: Pharaoh, 9-5. Our unit is under attack by a horde of ferals in Cambridge Police Station, and our soldiers have been whittled down to one paladin and two knights! They're running _dangerously_ low on ammunition and we've visual confirmation of a large super mutant warband moving to engage us as I speak! Immediate assistance or evac needed, please send help!"

The message ended before it looped for the umpteenth time, repeating itself again. "Automated message repeat. This is Senior Scribe Olin—"

Kryger deselected the transmission from his pip-boy and looked up to his three companions.

Preston was tentatively waiting for his command. "It's the Brotherhood of Steel, major. They're not exactly my kind of people, but at least they're not raiders. We should move in and help."

Piper's arms were folded across her chest. "What the Minuteman means is that they're _jerks_." She sighed. "But whatever, I wouldn't wish something like being torn apart by a pack of crazed ghouls on anyone, even them."

Two of Codsworth's eyes were darting around the area, scanning for threats. The last one was focused solely on his master. "Discounting what Ms. Piper said, Senior Scribe Olin made this "Brotherhood of Steel" sound a lot like the pre-war United States military, hah hah! If I didn't know any better, I'd say the former is a successor to the latter!"

What the robot said had the most impact on Kryger. "Ready all weapons, squad. We're coming to their aid."

* * *

 **Cambridge Police Station**

One strike of a power armored fist was enough to turn a feral ghoul's chest cavity into a twisted mess of contaminated blood, viscera and shattered bones, as Brotherhood Paladin Danse learned.

Normally this would've been good news since he had very little ammo to spare. But the sheer amount of incoming feral ghouls he needed to punch would be enough to drain his fusion core several times over.

"Focus fire on the lead element!" Danse directed his two remaining knights' guns to bear on the first of the seventh wave of slobbering ghouls. "Rhys, conserve those fusion cells, two-shot bursts only! Keane, I want that shotgun of yours firing until it starts glowing _red!_ "

Danse was the first to follow his own command. His first laser pulse singed through a ghoul's torso and had enough strength left in it to incinerate another ghoul behind it. The second shot was much less straightforward: it missed the ghouls entirely, travelled briefly through the air and hit a rusted-out car nearby, setting it alight.

By the time buckshot from Keane and more laser bolts from Rhys came flying through the air, the nuclear-powered vehicle exploded in a small mushroom cloud, blowing a sizable chunk of the seventh wave of foes to bloody pieces and knocking down a small part of the barricade.

"Rhys, damage report!"

"I'm wounded, and Knight Keane is KIA! I repeat, Keane is KIA!"

Danse grimaced. "Haylen, get some bandages and a Med-X; we need your assistance and medical expertise out here right now!"

"Paladin Danse, I have my laser shotgun and plenty of fusion cells at the ready! Just say the word and I can help you!" One of the Vindicated, Senior Scribe Olin, exclaimed through the squad radio.

The paladin didn't hesitate. "No! We can't afford to lose you, Olin! Stay right where you are, and _that's_ an order!"

Danse and Rhys continued to hold out against their inhuman foes even as Scribe Haylen arrived to contribute her pistol. The three of them worked in tandem with one another with precision that could only be described as military. Their concentrated fire eradicated dozens upon dozens of the ghouls, but each of them knew that their guns would quickly start to run dry... they needed assistance from _anyone_ listening to their distress call, and _fast_.

"Rhys, Haylen, we may need to fall back to the roof! More hostiles in sight!"

"Negative on that, sir! Knight Rhys' legs are crippled! He can't move!" Haylen reported.

"You two can make it up there if I stay here and hold them!" Rhys bravely volunteered. "Come on, you need to get moving! I can only slow them down for so long!"

Danse felt proud to serve with the man, but he wasn't so inclined to just throw him to the dogs. He deserved to go out in the company of his friends and comrades. "This is the moment we've been training for, my friends! This day, we make our stand... let none find us wanting!"

Paladin Danse descended the steps and strode forward, meeting the charging ghouls head-on while firing rapid bursts from his laser rifle, incinerating ferals left and right.

"For Elder Maxson! For all that is righteous! For the cause!"

Knight Rhys propped himself up to lean against the wall behind him, leveling his own laser rifle to bear against the feral tide.

"Valor and courage! Fury and zeal! Honor and duty!"

Scribe Haylen stood up from her crouched position and took out the combat rifle strapped to her back. With it, she blasted approaching ghouls away from her and Rhys.

"We spill our blood for the Brotherhood! We give our lives for mankind!"

All three of them let out a synchronized battle cry, intending it to be their last and most glorious.

"AD VICTORIAM!"

As if the gods of war themselves have heard their cry, a barrage of extremely accurate laser fire supplemented by liberal amounts of 5.56 and 10mm rounds tore through the leftmost flank of the approaching ferals, ripping clusters of them apart like meat to the grinder.

Within moments, most of the ghouls were rent asunder by these new, unseen arrivals. The immediate vicinity of the yard was swiftly cleared of feral ghouls, but more could be heard coming from beyond the partially trampled barricade.

Danse had loaded fresh fusion cells into his laser rifle when he appeared. The leader of the new arrivals, a strange man in a dark green, heavily-decorated army greatcoat, peaked cap and uniform, was wielding his laser assault rifle and moving forward in a well-drilled military stride, not unlike the Brotherhood's own knights and paladins.

"Codsworth, secure the perimeter! Preston, take Piper and cover our flanks! Move it!" He commanded to the two other civilians and the robot following him. "Stay alert, people; we've got multiple ghouls and super mutants on approach!"

As he neared, Paladin Danse acknowledged the man evenly. "We appreciate the assistance and the extra hands, citizen. That entrance you made was well-executed, better than most I've seen."

"Thank you, sir." The man nodded in a stern, neutral manner. "We picked up your distress signal from the radio near the Jalbert Brothers waste disposal area, and we managed to track it to your location. We're here to resupply and assist you as best as we can."

"Are you? I don't suppose you came to our aid purely out of the kindness of your heart, did you, stranger?" Danse inclined his head slightly to the side. This newcomer sounded exactly like a soldier, and his clothes certainly reinforced that perception.

Whoever he was, he certainly didn't come from any of the local settlements. That much was clear.

"You sounded like you needed help, and we just so happened to be close by with the capacity to offer it." The greencoated man insisted. "Your... "senior scribe" said you were running low on ammunition and supplies. We have spare fusion cell packs, 10mm magazines and a few syringes of stims and morphine we could spare."

"With your support, I don't think we'll have need of extra ammunition." Danse said. "But one of us, Knight Rhys over there next to Scribe Haylen by the precinct entrance, could use two stimpaks — one for each leg."

The man nodded and called out to one of his companions. "Preston! We need two stimpaks for that man's legs, on the double!"

The man called Preston — a Commonwealth Minuteman from the looks of his clothes and weapon of choice — quickly removed himself from the main battle line after firing an overcharged bolt at a shambling ghoul.

"Right away, major!" He then hurried over to Rhys and Haylen near the door, slinging his ramshackle laser rifle behind his back as he did so.

Danse set his sights back to the leader. "The Minuteman called you a major. I guess this means you're from the same organization as him, serving as his superior officer?"

The paladin hoped so, because it would clear a lot of things such as his supposed willingness to help. It would also mean that Recon Squad Gladius could rest easy, knowing that potential betrayals were unlikely to happen when dealing with the Minutemen.

"No." The man shook his head. "Major James Kryger, Southeast Asia Command. You're looking at the last of the old world United States Armed Forces, sir."

Danse's brows shot up at that, but he quickly calmed himself before he could say anything rash.

"Very funny, citizen. Since you know of Major Kryger, I'm going to assume that you're already familiar with us... and our stance on unauthorized civilians possessing old world tech." His eyes briefly lingered on the other man's modded laser rifle.

The man didn't seem to appear intimidated, he merely looked on at Danse, as if confused. "I... know who you are, but I'm not even remotely familiar with you. Is there another Major Kryger serving in the Brotherhood of Steel?"

Danse — unlike most of his kind if they were put in his shoes — decided to indulge the man.

"No. Major James Kryger never had the chance to join the Brotherhood when it was founded just after the Great War, but he was mentioned in the Codex and our founder's memoirs as the model soldier — a stalwart and loyal, ever-resolute warrior, leader and engineer whom every respectable paladin or knight of the Brotherhood should strive to emulate... from the lowliest initiate, straight up to the greatest sentinel."

Unexpectedly, Scribe Haylen stepped up before the man could react to Danse's words.

"Major Kryger was, for all intents in purposes, one of the most significant inspirations for the creation of the Brotherhood's armed forces. His campaign records and brilliant tactical decisions during the United States' war with China is still being analyzed by scribes such as myself, to be incorporated into our own war strategies."

She laughed. "I never met him, and he never came to be one of us. But I still consider him one of the Brotherhood's most valued people for contributing so much to our cause."

The wastelander in the green coat appeared completely shocked at hearing everything out of Danse and Haylen, almost comically so. He seemed to try to force words out of his mouth, but kept failing.

"Huh, who knew the Brotherhood are actually your biggest fans, Green?" One of the man's companions — the woman in the red coat, scarf and newsboy cap — uttered.

"Shut up!" Knight Rhys barked at her, even as the Minuteman tended to his wounds. "This man _isn't_ Major Kryger! How can anyone claim to be a pre-war officer who's been dead for over two centuries? It's fucking ridiculous!"

"Rhys, that's enough!" Danse glared at the knight. "We'll get to the bottom of this as soon as—"

"Uhm, I think this is the part where we should get ready!" The modified Mister Handy robot at the front battle line exclaimed. "My bio-sensors are picking up mutated signatures gathering for a concentrated assault on the police station! I suggest extreme caution!"

* * *

"How many, Codsworth?"

"A little more than sixty, sir!"

Kryger cursed his luck as he ran over next to Piper just behind Codsworth. He wondered how deeply he had gotten himself into the Brotherhood's business.

"You alright there, Green?" In the middle of checking his gear, he heard the reporter ask him.

"Yeah, I'm good to go." Kryger dismissively responded. He was still focused on setting the energy output settings on his gun.

"Listen, what those Brotherhood guys said, about you being held as an example to their troops because their founder was like, the president of your fan club or something..."

Kryger's face scrunched up in annoyance. "Now's hardly the time for this, Piper."

"I know, but we could all die before the day's up." She wryly smiled. When he looked completely unconvinced by her reasoning, she shrugged, "I'm just curious. Indulge me."

The major sighed. "Honestly, I have as much of a clue as you do. Though I think we'd get our answers _after_ we repel this wave of ghouls for the Brotherhood."

He looked to her, his expression all businesslike. "Just keep your head down and don't let these things reach you. Feral ghouls are fragile, and with a little bit of luck, this should be over before—"

The earth shook.

"Huh, did anyone else feel that?" Preston pulled out the depleted stimpak from Knight Rhys' leg and picked up his laser musket from the floor.

Everything started shaking again, as if a miniature earthquake just passed by.

"That's definitely something." The leader of the Brotherhood soldiers moved up next to Kryger and Piper, his rifle held at the ready. "And I don't think it's ferals this time."

A throaty, long-winded roar from some unseen monster pierced the relative silence of the area, all but confirming the power armored man's words. Something was heading straight for the police station, and it was big.

Within a split-second, the Brotherhood squad leader lumbered over to Piper. "You, female civilian, you're going to need a much more potent gun than that measly pistol."

"Wh—" Before Piper could so much as object, the man scooped up a bloodied combat shotgun from a dead Brotherhood soldier's lifeless hands and pushed it to her chest. "Uh..."

"This gun once belonged to Knight Matthew Keane. Do him a service by using his weapon to continue purging mutants in his name." The squad leader said, as the reporter meekly holstered her pistol and reluctantly accepted the shotgun.

"Thanks... I guess."

Kryger felt it was his own turn to talk to his temporary ally. "Sir, if I may ask: if something extremely dangerous is heading this way, what's stopping you from just packing up and retreating? It doesn't seem tactically sound to continue defending this precinct until you're wiped out."

"You know FUCK-ALL, wastelander!" Rhys shouted from his position near the entrance. "What gives you the right to question our decisions? We're the most elite soldiers in the entire godforsaken continent, and you're nothing but a worthless fraud pretending to be someone who's actually done something meaningful with his life!"

"KNIGHT. RHYS. Unless you want us to end up facing our enemies alone, I'll not have you antagonizing this man!" The squad leader chided his subordinate harshly before turning his attention back to Kryger. "Forgive us, citizen, but as Rhys so crudely put, I don't believe you understand the full scope of the situation."

The power armored man gestured at Scribe Haylen to step forward again, to speak on his behalf. The woman did so without complaint.

"Allow me to explain as much as I'm able to tell an outsider: our unit came to the Commonwealth on a very important mission, and if we abandon the police station, we'd jeopardize the entire endeavor by losing not only a good forward base of operations, but also one of our only chances of contacting our main headquarters in the DC area. If we cannot make a report of what we've seen in the Commonwealth so far, we'd have done all our work and four of our own would have died for nothing."

When Haylen finished, her leader regarded Kryger again. "Perhaps if we survive the behemoth, I'd tell you all about this mission, citizen."

The major frowned. "Behemoth?"

A .38 round flattened itself on Codsworth's reinforced central housing. "Oh, how mortifying! The sheer impoliteness of—"

"Contact!" Kryger placed himself behind the barricade. "Incoming rounds, find cover!"

Not a moment too soon, heavy gunfire forced those in the open to seek cover wherever they could. After a while, it was soon apparent that such actions were unecessary; the enemy had less than stellar accuracy with their weapons.

Kryger thought the Brotherhood soldiers must've exaggerated the threat of super mutants just to lure in potential helpers for some purpose. He scoffed and popped out of cover to return fire...

...and immediately regretted his line of thinking when he spotted several squad-sized super mutant contingents rapidly approaching, lugging around melee weapons and junk fashioned as such. The hulking, mutated masses of muscle and green flesh bellowed incoherent war cries and taunted their foes in bellowing voices and mangled English as they sprinted towards the precinct's defenders.

The major shook his head and cleared his thoughts. "By the numbers, squad! OPEN FIRE!"

Preston was the first to attack. His overcharged, three-crank laser musket shot seared a massive hole through a super mutant's chest and continued traveling out the other side, killing two more behind.

"For the Brotherhood! TO ARMS!" The squad leader exclaimed.

Immediately after, everyone else let loose with their guns.

At first, it was a slaughter. Lasers, bullets and buckshot tore most of the incoming mutants apart before they could even get close. When the first wave fell like sheep to the slaughter, more still came, but they were mercilessly cut down just like the ones before them. It was when the mutants started to adapt to the situation that Kryger was forced to be a little more strategic.

"They're bringing in gunners and suiciders!" The Brotherhood squad leader alerted everyone, indicating at the most recent super mutant wave with his index finger. "We're in for a fight now!"

Indeed, there were now super mutants wielding pipe rifles and sawn-off shotguns amid their more melee-oriented brethren, but what really caught Kryger's attention were those that actually carried nothing but mini-nukes in their arms, their intentions obviously unpleasant.

"Brotherhood, fall back to the structure, now! Man the windows and keep them back!" The major then ordered, slinging his rifle behind his shoulder. "Preston, Piper, break contact and execute scorched earth maneuvers!"

"What?!" Both of them cried out in unison.

Kryger took the time to introduce his palm with his face. "Pull out those frag mines and scatter them across the yard — some of the grenades too, while you're at it! Hurry!"

The Minuteman and the reporter quickly ran off to do as they're told without protest, while the Brotherhood squad leader took it upon himself to move in and protect them. On his end, Kryger went the other direction, towards the police station entrance.

"Scribe Haylen, can Knight Rhys walk?" He asked the woman crouched next to the wounded man.

Haylen looked to Rhys and back to Kryger. "He's—"

"I'll speak for myself!" Rhys stopped her mid-sentence before giving Kryger his harshest glare.

"First you brazenly carry laser rifles into our compound, _then_ you tried to impersonate a revered figure of the Brotherhood, and _now_ you're trying to order _us_ around? Think you're some kind of badass hotshot motherfucker in that fucking coat you looted, huh? You'd do well to know your goddamn place, wastelander! If I was Paladin Danse, I'd—"

"I don't recall ever asking _you_ for your opinion, soldier!" Kryger finally snapped. He wasn't in the mood to test the extents of his patience.

"I have no fucking clue why I even BELIEVED you were worth those two valuable stimpaks I had Preston waste on you, when you keep on proving yourself to be an ungrateful piece of mistrustful, uncooperative shit! If _I_ was Paladin Danse, I'd have you replaced with someone who KNOWS to keep his insubordinate thoughts to himself and his mouth shut when appropriate!"

"Stop acting like a belligerent asshole and ANSWER ME LIKE THE REAL SOLDIER YOU ARE!" Kryger violently took hold of the man's shoulders. "Can. You. FUCKING. _WALK?!"_

Rhys visibly buckled as he looked away, and Haylen took several steps back, fearing something violent about to erupt. To see such a normally calm and unflappable figure as Kryger lose his composure in favor of unrestrained fury was terrifying; for a brief moment, making direct eye-contact with his weathering gray stare seemed a more daunting task than facing the super mutants themselves in battle.

"...His legs aren't f-fully healed... he can walk, but he's going to n-need some assistance." Haylen said, cautiously walking up next to the major.

Kryger seemed to growl as he crouched down to Rhys' level, placing himself by the man's right. "We need to pull him back inside the building. I'll lift this arm, you take the other. Let's go."

Scribe Haylen hesitated only for a second. Knight Rhys kept his mouth shut as Kryger and Haylen lifted him up by each arm and helped him inside the police station. There, they dropped him off under adequate cover, with his back to a desk.

"Scribe, who is this?"

Kryger and Haylen turned and regarded the source of the new voice, a blonde woman wearing darkened, tight-fitting robes reminiscent of an official, civilian version of Haylen's field scribe outfit. She was warily training her laser shotgun at the major, unsure if he was a threat.

"Senior Scribe Olin..." Haylen tersely greeted her higher-ranking colleague. "This is... uhm, "James". He and his company helped us repulse those ferals."

"He looks like a clean-shaved Gunner commander. Can we trust him?"

"He's been very helpful to us thus far, sister. I think we could have a lot of uses for him after we push back the super mutants."

Olin arched a brow. "Oh? And I don't suppose he told you his service fee for merc work, did he?" Her earlier nervousness gave way to exasperated irritation. "We've totally spent all our caps and now that he's helped us out, we've no choice but to _pay_ him _somehow_ for all he's done for us. Well played, wastelander. Well played."

Kryger could see the dark lines and and obvious bags under the woman's eyes, and the unsteady way she gripped her laser shotgun signified her exhaustion. It was clear that she dealt with constant stress and prolonged sleep deprivation by being curt and irritable... just like Roger during the Canadian annexation.

"I'm not charging you anything for my assistance, ma'am. You said you needed help, and we just managed to be around the neighborhood when we picked up your distress call. We're not mercenaries, and believe me, that's all there is to it."

Rhys weakly scoffed, "He lies..."

A glare from Olin was enough to silence the distrustful knight. When the senior scribe turned back to Kryger, her bitter scowl disappeared, and she was significantly more cordial.

"Excuse us. As you can see, Mr. James, things have been less than ideal around here, and I guess it's been getting the better of myself and Rhys here. I see now you look just as exhausted as I do, but you cope with it much better than us both."

Kryger nodded in understanding, "There's no need to apologize — we're all under a great deal of stress. Though I must ask, is there anything you can do to help us?"

"I'm afraid I can't personally go into combat with you. I've got orders from Paladin Danse explicitly forbidding me from doing so because apparently, our leader _thinks_ I'm too valuable to lose." Olin seemed irritated at that instead of pleased. "I suppose if you're one of us, I could grant you and your company access to our heavy weapons... but that isn't the case, and our protocols regarding advanced tech are very, _very_ strict."

Olin sighed. "I'm sorry, but the only thing I can do is tend to Rhys' wounds here, and _that's_ a trivial matter compared to what you'll be doing outside."

The major nodded again. "No worries, I understand."

He lied. This time, he _didn't_ understand. The mere thought of how the senior scribe still adhered to obstructive orders, rules and protocol even when her assistance — no matter how small — could mean the difference between life and death baffled and irritated Kryger. He was reminded of the massive bureaucratic mess that was the United States government, and how it helped speed up civilization's fiery, radioactive demise.

Kryger had to force down the urge to spit on the floor in disgust. "Haylen?"

"Coming, sir." Scribe Haylen stood up near Rhys, drew her combat rifle and jogged off to accompany Kryger back to the front.

"If you don't mind me saying, I've never seen anyone getting someone like Olin to calm down just like that." Haylen said out of the senior scribe's earshot. "I actually thought she wasn't into men..."

Kryger chose not to respond to something so trivial. When the two of them rounded a corner, they were greeted by Codsworth.

"S-sir, I took the lib-liberty of scouting a-ahead..." The robot stammered. "Great heavens, I think I just found a super mutant the size of a bloody house! That thing nearly flattened me with a fire hydrant when I ran into it around a corner!"

"It'll die just like the rest." The major walked past him, as did Haylen.

Codsworth tried to put himself in his master's path, "No, no, no, I'm not exaggerating this time, sir! It's coming this way, and it actually _is_ the size of a—"

The wall behind Codsworth exploded into concrete chunks, temporarily knocking out the power and blowing a gaping hole at the front of the building. The missile-launcher wielding super mutant responsible for the attack howled in psychotic glee as he reloaded his weapon for another go.

Kryger coughed into his palm as he picked himself up. "Everyone alright? Haylen, are you hurt?"

"I'm okay!" The scribe pulled herself loose from some rubble.

The major helped her up. "Codsworth, where are you?"

"Right here, sir!" The robot emerged into sight from under an overturned desk. One of his eyes seemed to have been knocked loose from its fittings.

Kryger nodded and looked outside. Preston and Piper were just finishing up with mine-laying, and the squad leader — apparently called Paladin Danse — backhanded a sledgehammer-wielding super mutant across the face before perforating him with laser bolts as he spun around.

"We're about to be overrun here, citizens!" Danse turned and called out to the pair of minelayers as he reloaded his gun. "We should be heading inside! Right now!"

"Just one more here!" Preston primed his last frag mine and placed it just a little beyond the barricade, even as super mutants in the distance fired potshots at him.

"Come on, Preston, _hurry it up!_ " Piper was frantically gesturing for the Minuteman to finish up. "I don't wanna end up as mutie lunch; I've got a sister to feed!"

"Alright, done!" Preston stood up and sprinted away from the advancing super mutant horde. "Let's get the hell out here!"

Danse and Piper were visibly glad to abandon the minefield to follow him back into the precinct, where Kryger, Haylen and Codsworth awaited them.

"Prioritize those suiciders whenever you can, everyone!" Paladin Danse placed a detachable short-range scope to his gun to go with his words. "Dont let them reach the compound!"

For a short while, the mixed group had time to catch their breath beneath cover while they waited for the super mutants to approach. Kryger adjusted his gun sights and Danse slowly breathed in and out as he peered down his scope. Preston calmly cranked his laser musket to its maximum power output and Piper impatiently tapped on her foot. Codsworth tried his best to fix his misaligned eye and Haylen nervously looked ahead of the minefield, listening to the super mutants screaming just outside.

Finally, the first of the greenskins stepped into view, hefting a missile-launcher over his shoulder. "NO MORE GAMES... TIME TO D—"

The super mutant promptly stepped on a frag mine, blowing him completely apart and knocking down a large section of the barricade, revealing the rest of the dead mutant's brethren hiding behind it.

"Purge them!" Danse ordered.

The entire front of the police station lit up as the occupants emptied volley after volley on the exposed super mutants. Instead of scattering and taking cover like sensible soldiers, the mutants instead decided to charge right forward, directly into the small minefield Preston and Piper set up.

The yard was then littered with craters and bloody super mutant chunks after less than fifteen seconds of the mutants entering its threshold. Shrapnel flew around and shredded green mutated flesh, and persistent gunfire from the precinct defenders cut down droves of mutants before they could even get close.

While most of the super mutants were dispatched on their way to have at the humans, there were still a few things Kryger's team and the Brotherhood couldn't fully prepare themselves for.

The residential building just across the Cambridge Police Station quite literally exploded, sending chunks of concrete rubble and metal debris flying all over. From beneath the ruined structure, a super mutant behemoth revealed itself to all with a thunderous roar of psychotic, murderous fury.

"We're going to need much bigger guns..." Kryger muttered under a breath, while everyone else just gaped. He put his laser rifle away and retrieved the .50 caliber hunting rifle he scavenged from the Drumlin Diner. Chambering in a round into the gun, he bellowed,

"All units, priority target! Bring that ugly bastard down on its knees!"

A moment later, everyone emptied their magazines, shells and fusion cells on the towering super mutant monstrosity. The behemoth recoiled only slightly as it was pelted by largely ineffective small arms fire — even .50 caliber bullets only seemed to faze it for a second.

In response to the attacks, the monster bent down and scooped up a large section of the pavement. With a handful of asphalt concrete at its disposal, the behemoth reeled back and hurled the road chunk straight against the front of the police station.

Kryger dropped his rifle and took a few steps back while Danse muttered an oath. Preston's jaw hung loose, Codsworth snagged a shellshocked Haylen away and Piper shouted loudly,

"Everybody, RUN FOR IT!"

The asphalt concrete chunk directly struck and completely demolished the front of the precinct, flattening the doors, the windows, and kicking up an obscuring cloud of dust all over the affected area.

After the dust cloud cleared up somewhat, Paladin Danse picked himself up after pushing aside a bit of rubble covering his power armor. He was seemingly the first to recover from the behemoth's throwing attack.

"Anyone injured?" He coughed out, cracking some of his joints.

"Aargh, my legs are all messed up! I can't stand!" Preston exclaimed as he dragged himself on the floor to lean up against a wall.

"Hold on, I've got bandages and a Med-X here!" Haylen seemed completely unharmed thanks to Codsworth's initiative. She jogged off to the Minuteman and began tending to his wounds.

"Care to share some of that Med-X? I think I need to snap my arm back into place..." Piper managed to deadpan after Danse pulled her out of the rubble and helped her up to her feet.

"No need to worry, I feel fine!" Codsworth happily announced once he appeared into sight. "I mean, one of my eyes has been severed _completely_ , but it should take a simple welding job to set it straight! ...I think."

Preston thanked Haylen after she patched him up and injected him with a meager dose of Med-X for good measure. After the scribe got up to stand, the Minuteman couldn't help but notice Kryger's shattered hunting rifle on the floor, its wielder nowhere to be found. "Guys, did anybody see Major Kryger around? He might be still buried under the—"

"WE'RE COMING FOR YOU, BUCKETHEADS!"

"BIG STRONG BOSS BEHEMOTH SAY WE KILL HUMANS GOOD, THEN WE _EAT_ HUMANS GOOD! HAH HAH!"

"KILL THE HUMANS! KILL THEM ALL! AH HA HA HA HA _HA!_ "

Apparently spurred on by their behemoth leader, the super mutants outside stormed the precinct with renewed ferocity and much better armor and weaponry such as laser rifles and super sledges. It seemed so that for an unintelligible, lumbering brute the size of a small building, the behemoth actually had the brains to reserve its most powerful troops for last.

"Make ready, everyone!"

Suddenly, Kryger appeared from further inside the police station, now lugging around a gatling laser fitted with a maximized capacitor using nothing but his bare, gloved hands. On both of his flanks were Knight Rhys and Senior Scribe Olin, all geared up and looking battle-ready.

Danse appeared shocked to see Olin for a moment, but he recovered quickly. "Senior scribe, I gave you an express order _not_ to interfere!"

"The outsider is a _very_ persuasive man..." Olin sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck.

Rhys nodded, albeit reluctantly. He opted to say nothing.

Outside, the super mutants trampled over the battered remains of the metal barricade and ran past the dismembered corpses of their more unfortunate brethren on the yard as they advanced. Halfway across, the precinct defenders made their move.

The mutants were pleasantly surprised when most of their human foes actually emerged from their hideout to meet their charge head-on. The mutants thought them stupid and desperate to make such an ill-conceived move, but they were quickly forced to learn that through enough desperation, man can be capable of truly impossible things.

Once he reached adequate cover by a stack of sandbars, Kryger brought his gatling laser to bear, pulled the activation lever and set it loose against the super mutants. He buckled and flinched when enemy laser beams scorched his armored greatcoat and pipe rifle bullets lodged themselves into his flesh, but he pulled through much worse than a few burns and small-caliber bullet wounds.

While Kryger tanked punishment as if he was wearing power armor, the mutants he faced proved far less resilient against his Brotherhood-issued gatling laser. Beam after beam of boosted fusion core generated laser pulses burned through the super mutant ranks like a scythe against wheat, indiscriminate and decisive. Limbs were blown off, heads were incinerated and entire bodies were burned to nothing but cinders before Major Kryger's unrelenting assault.

"BOSS BEHEMOTH SAY GREENCOAT NO FIGHT FAIR WITH BIG GUN! BOSS BEHEMOTH ALREADY STAY OUT OF FIGHT TO EVEN THINGS!" One of the higher-ranking mutants exclaimed.

"BOSS BEHEMOTH SAY HAMMER-BROTHERS SHOULD GO CRUSH GREENCOAT FIRST!"

An entire host of mutants armored up from head to toe in slabs of rusted steel taken from abandoned vehicles and brandishing sledgehammers enhanced by improvised rocket thrusters disengaged from their current foes to focus solely on Kryger.

Unfazed, the major switched targets and hosed down these mutants. To his annoyance, his bolts had less of an effect on them because of their ramshackle armor, and he only managed to put down three out of seven of them before they closed in to melee range.

"I'M GOING TO EAT YOU ALIVE AFTER I _KILL_ YOU, HUMAN!" The closest super mutant swung at Kryger's head with his super sledge, who only managed to barely duck out of its path. "STAND STILL! STAND STILL SO I CAN KILL YOU!"

Kryger evaded another strike by hopping off to his side, dodging an overhead blow that could've flattened his head. He revved up his gatling laser as he doubled back, intending to use it at close range, but he was then interrupted by a flanking super mutant who blindsided him, knocking him to the ground.

The major watched from his position on ground as one of the super mutants dropped his previous weapon, scooped up his fallen gatling laser and used it against his companions and the Brotherhood, forcing them to stop advancing to find cover.

"POOR STUPID GREENCOAT ALL ALONE NOW!" Another super mutant loomed over Kryger, super sledge in hand and grinning predatorily. "BOSS BEHEMOTH THINK YOU GOOD FIGHTER; HAVE STRONG ARMS AND FIGHT LIKE CORNERED DEATHCLAW! I WONDER IF ARMS TASTE GOOD WITH RADROACH..."

Kryger was forced to rely on his most convenient weapon. Just as the mutant slowly raised his sledgehammer to strike down the major, the latter unsheathed his electrified sabre from its scabbard, accompanied by a sharp electrical crackle. He then crouched up, parried the mutant's killing blow and decisively took a swing at his foe's midsection.

"AAAGGH...!" The shockblade easily burned its way through the mutant's flesh, gruesomely disemboweling him. "IS THAT... ALL GREENCOAT GOT..."

As the eviscerated mutant fell to earth — spasming with electrical currents coursing through his rapidly-dying veins, the major pushed himself up to stand, sword in hand. Just in front of him was a sight that guaranteed to strike fear into the hearts of ordinary men with near-perfect certainty: a band of frenzied super mutants wielding melee weapons of all kinds bearing down against their chosen prey.

But instead of responding with fear or panic, Kryger stood his ground and struck a defensive swordfighting stance, with his blade held low, his right foot placed a single step beyond his left and his eyes completely focused at the front.

His next foe came into contact like the typical super mutant: loudly and lacking any sort of subtlety. The mutant screamed as he heaved at Kryger with a sharpened slab of steel; Kryger ducked under the cumbersome swing and responded with one of his own, striking the mutant's extended arms before he could retract them. The mutant howled as both of his arms were neatly severed by the elbow, and was promptly silenced when Kryger slashed his unprotected throat wide open, almost decapitating him then and there.

While the mutant staggered back choking on his own blood, another of his brethren barreled in with a super sledge. Kryger knew the rocket-propelled maul would be harder to evade, so he waited until the super mutant was practically next to him. Quickly drawing his 10mm pistol and taking aim with it, he buried a round into the mutant's face at point-blank range, leaving him too stunned to defend himself.

Kryger then lacerated the mutant's chest twice in quick succession, carving a pair of deep, bleeding trenches from where he struck. He then let the lurching mutant topple himself over by swooping down and cleanly slicing off his right leg, before finishing him off by lifting his leg up and crushing his greenskin foe's skull underfoot.

Major Kryger's company minus Codsworth and Danse's Brotherhood recon team couldn't help but take a momentary reprieve from fighting for survival in order to gawk at Kryger when he proceeded to charge headlong into the super mutant horde, bloodied shocksabre held over his head and 10mm pistol firing downrange.

With such masterful swordsmanship and agility, Kryger fluidly cut into his foes, mercilessly chopping off limbs and separating heads from shoulders with courser-like efficiency, precision and brutal pragmatism. With every mutant dead by Kryger's energy-wreathed blade, the situation seemed ever less bleak for his combined allies. His valorous deeds inspired each of them to fight off the super mutants with much greater vigor and zeal — and for the Brotherhood team, it felt almost as if they fought in the presence of Sentinel Winters herself.

"We need to move in and assist him!" Danse sealed his head inside his T-60c helmet and stood up from cover. "Push forward, soldiers! Bring them to their knees!"

After a period of two minutes, Kryger had incinerated enough of its smaller brethren to get the behemoth itself to join the fight, with him as its specific target. The major was just in the process of pulling his shocksword loose from the head of the same mutant who took his gatling laser, when he felt massive footsteps rapidly approaching his position.

"Outsider, be aware!" Senior Scribe Olin called to him. "The behemoth! It's coming for you!"

That got his attention. He turned and indeed, the behemoth was brandishing its fire hydrant maul as it menacingly strode towards him, intending to splatter his crushed and thoroughly tenderized remains all over the pavement. Kryger quickly reacted to this by sheathing his sabre and snatching the stolen Brotherhood heavy laser weapon free from his last victim's lifeless hands. Finally reunited with the only weapon at his disposal that could possibly give the behemoth pause, Kryger brought the gatling laser to bear against the advancing creature...

...only for it to fizzle out after three seconds of discharge. The major ground his teeth together and mentally cursed the last mutant who used his weapon as he ejected its spent fusion core. He then went down on one knee, pulled out a fresh core from one of his coat pockets and started the slow and laborious process of reloading the gatling laser, hoping he'd have enough time before it was too late.

"Disregard all previous targets and stop that behemoth!" Danse marked the mutant leader for death. "Don't let it get close to him! Destroy the beast!"

Everyone who could lift a gun at the monster did so gladly, but their efforts were in vain. Their lasers were not intense enough to significantly hinder the behemoth, and those who still used ballistics such as Codsworth, Piper and Haylen seemed even less effective. The behemoth continued its menacing sprint towards Kryger, and this time, it actually let out a bellowing, mocking cackle as it advanced.

It was only a matter of time until the monster reached a close enough distance to the major. Kryger had just finished reloading, but by then, the behemoth had already raised its fire hydrant maul high above the air, in preparation to strike its human adversary down.

Nothing short of divine intervention could save him now, Kryger thought with a scowl. He hoped for a more quiet, peaceful kind of death, but now, he only hoped it would come quick.

Suddenly, without so much as a faint warning, the behemoth's left eye exploded along with most of its hideously deformed face.

 _KAH-THOOM._

The sound of a large-caliber, extreme long-range firearm was heard exactly a second later. The bullet evidently travelled faster than the sound the gun the fired it made.

The behemoth itself was the first to react to its new injuries. It impulsively tossed aside its makeshift bludgeon and emitted a pained series of screams and shouts as it staggered away, clutching at its mutilated head.

As everyone including the smaller super mutants stood and looked on in utter shock, another bullet blew a new hole in the behemoth's chest, causing it to stagger further back — almost to the point that it toppled over.

 _KAH-THOOM._

Kryger knew what to do. "Danse! Olin! Rhys! Concentrate all laser fire on that behemoth! Piper, Haylen, Codsworth, deal with the rest!" He spooled up his gatling laser and showered the lurching behemoth with a hurricane of laser beams.

"You heard him!" Danse indicated at the behemoth. "Now's our chance, brothers! Purge the monstrosity!"

The major, the paladin, the senior scribe and the knight combined their fire into a bright, brilliant wall of laser pulses, bathing the entire area with an ominous scarlet tint thanks to the sheer amount of firepower being channeled against the super mutant leader.

On its end, the behemoth resisted the energy attacks valiantly despite its previous wounds; by the end of the first barrage, most of its body was now covered in black scorch marks and steaming burns, but it didn't seem even remotely close to dying from its wounds.

"Christ, how long is it gonna take just to kill this thing?!" Piper exclaimed in frustration as she shifted from one piece of cover to another.

Indeed, the behemoth was far from finished. It stopped covering its disfigured face, took out a compact boulder from the shopping cart it carried on its back and hurled it at Danse and his team.

"Scatter!" The paladin warned his fellows, but they reacted too late to completely evade the projectile. It hit right in the middle of their formation, knocking out both Olin and Rhys. Danse, however, was fortunate to get out with only minor injuries, being sealed head-to-toe in power armor.

The behemoth yelled a monstrous, triumphant roar upon seeing the results of its throw, all but ignoring Kryger as he continued shooting at it in vain. It frustrated the major so to see all his efforts prove fruitless and insignificant; his unrelenting laser pulses never did appear to penetrate the behemoth's thick, seemingly impervious hide... much like the rest of the weapons at everyone's disposal.

If the mysterious sniper had altogether stopped providing sniper support with their rifle after firing those two devastating shots, Kryger figured that if he wanted to survive, he'd have to make use of a weapon that could similarly go through the monster's thick hide... something made specifically to cleave through the thickest power armor plating with very little difficulty.

 _Here I go again..._

With a weary sigh, the major let go of his nearly-depleted weapon. It fell to the ground with a soft clatter, almost mournfully so.

"SIR!" Codsworth all but screamed at his master. "WHAT IN THE BLAZES ARE YOU DOING?!"

With a heavy heart, Kryger ignored the robot and looked ahead at the behemoth. It breathed heavily as it stared back, fuming in rage. It probably never expected such heavy resistance from a small band of stupid humans.

"Green? Green! Hey, wake up!" Piper tried in vain to snap Kryger out of his trance. To her further horror, he responded by unsheathing his shocksabre, eliciting a bright flash of blue lightning from the blade as he snapped it out from its scabbard.

"Oh, _no_... you're— you're not _seriously_ gonna..."

The rest of her words died in her mouth when Kryger suddenly chose to defy all logic and reason by breaking into a beeline straight toward the behemoth, sabre held at the ready.

"Ad victoriam, brother!" Danse, in contrast, cheered Kryger on from the sidelines as he advanced. "Ad victoriam!"

The behemoth let out an unhinged, rumbling laugh as it strode to meet Kryger's charge. The major kept focused and calm as he and his distant foe closed the distance between one another. He started holding his sabre's guarded handle with both hands just as the towering monstrosity raised its gigantic fist to level with its head.

Kryger knew he had just one shot at avoiding a messy death; if he swung his blade any moment late, he'd soon find himself hurled across the area, dead before he could even hit the ground... and _that's_ if the mutant didn't just decide to pick him up and devour him then and there.

When the moment came for fate to decide whether the major or the behemoth stood triumphant, Kryger at least tried to even the odds in his favor. Before the behemoth could even take a swing at him with its fist, Kryger's shrewd mind had already analyzed the potential attack, taking note of the monster's extremely long reach and the larger-than-average profile of its hand. When the behemoth finally did as expected, Kryger never did choose to sidestep or duck under the blow as usual, but instead, he put all the momentum and force he could muster behind his shockblade as he lashed out with it, intending to strike the behemoth's fist directly.

Kryger scowled in disgust as his sword messily sliced its way through the behemoth's curled hand unopposed, severing its index, middle and ring fingers completely whike simultaneously infusing several volts' worth of electrical power into it. The monster instinctively retracted its fist as it howled in pain and surprise — it took several steps back as it stopped to nurse its maimed, electrocuted hand.

As for the behemoth's foe, Kryger never stopped moving. He reeled back his blade to gather momentum before unleashing a savage, heavy-handed blow on the behemoth's right leg as he ran past its side. His blade sundered the behemoth's thick hide and ate away at the mutated flesh beneath; the force applied to it very nearly hacked off the entire limb then and there and forced the mutant leader to fall down to its knees on the pavement, writhing in pain.

"Oh my God, nobody's ever killed a behemoth like _this_ before!" Haylen giddily exclaimed, only to be pulled down back into cover by Piper, narrowly avoiding being riddled by pipe rifle bullets.

Even as the behemoth struggled to regain enough strength to stand back up, Kryger scurried behind its kneeling form and jumped, using the shopping cart chained to its back to hold on. With no small amount of effort, the major slowly and methodically climbed the twenty-foot monstrosity's back like a ladder until he managed to reach the nape of its neck — a perfect location to wedge his shocksabre into.

Kryger sucked in a deep breath as he pulled back his blade. He was prepared to end the behemoth, and his own life, if he was unfortunate enough to be crushed to death under its headless corpse. He only hoped Shaun was still alive and safe somewhere, and his efforts were actually unneeded if the latter happened.

Before he could deal the final blow, however, the behemoth caught on to what he was about to do and with a spontaneous jolt of energy, reached towards him with its good, non-mutilated hand. Fortunately, Kryger saw this coming as he had planned in his mind. He waited until just before the behemoth could wrap its massive fingers around his body before he avoided it by letting himself slide back down a meter from the behemoth's back. From his position directly below the gigantic hand, Kryger viciously struck out against it by the wrist, and his efforts were duly rewarded with a thick shower of blood from the behemoth's freshly-severed stump.

The behemoth didn't seem to outwardly react to its maiming at first, so Kryger strove to press the attack before it did. He climbed back up to his previous position, pulled away a bit and struck out with his sword again, burying the length of his blade deep into the back of the mutant's thick, oak-like neck.

This time, it reacted instantaneously. The behemoth wailed out in pain, and if Kryger could hazard a guess — panic. Panic at the prospect of the human actually winning against it in such an improbable manner. The mutant thrashed about and tried to dislodge Kryger from its body, but to little avail. It only managed to get the major off its back by prostrating itself before jolting suddenly upwards, tossing him a couple of meters in the air.

This would prove to be the behemoth's final undoing. Hoisting his blade a little above his head, Kryger used both his hands to force the electrified edge of his sabre down against the behemoth's skull as he fell back down, using the gravitational momentum he achieved as he plummeted from the air to deliver the most decisive blow of all.

The super mutant monstrosity let out one final roar of defiance as the shocksabre penetrated its skull and cleaved deeply against its head, splitting it neatly apart halfway through while infusing it with enough volts to short-circuit a sentry bot. Kryger clutched at whatever solid thing he could get his hands on as the behemoth's body fell to earth with him on top of it.

"STUPID GREENCOAT KILL ANCIENT BOSS BEHEMOTH WITH GLOWY BLUE KNIFE!" One of the few remaining super mutants exclaimed, in palpable disbelief and shock. "BROTHERS, WE MUST FLEE! GREENCOAT AND FRIENDS TOO STRONG!"

"FLEE! HUMANS FIGHT LIKE QUEEN BUCKETHEAD!"

"I _TOLD_ YOU WE SHOULD HAVE BROUGHT THE FAT MAN! STUPID SUICIDERS BLOW UP TOO EARLY AND NOT DO PROPER JOB!"

Danse growled in distaste as the remaining mutants broke contact and turned tail. As much as he'd like to run them all down, he was just glad that most of his men survived to serve mankind for another day.

"Conserve ammo, men. We've killed and bled enough... let them go."

Kryger struggled to maintain his footing as he slid down from atop the behemoth's corpse. The adrenaline flooding his veins a minute earlier had started to rapidly wear off, and he could feel his injuries plus exhaustion setting in, threatening to overwhelm him.

"Wow, Green..." Piper, accompanied by Codsworth, approached him as he settled down.

"I mean, just... _seriously_ , that's... uhm, just _wow._ " The reporter stared blankly at the major, with the dead behemoth just behind him. "Just wait 'till I tell Preston all about this..."

"Sir, are you alright?" Codsworth worriedly asked. "You look a more than a little bit... under the weather."

Kryger wearily sighed. "What time is it, Codsworth...?"

"It's been twenty-six hours since you've last slept, sir." The robot answered instantaneously. "I really think you should—"

The major never heard the last words from Codsworth's vocalizers the moment he surrendered himself to the entire day's worth of shocks and fatigue. At that point, even the ruined pavement seemed like the best place to collapse unconscious on.

* * *

 **2km away to the southwest...**

"Heh heh," Lying prone on an elevated position by the side of an intact billboard, Augustus put down his scoped anti-materiel rifle just after he saw Kryger collapse from exhaustion.

"Sleep tight, soldier-boy." He muttered as he ejected the weapon's partly-spent magazine, which was loaded with AP rounds. With a grunt, he swapped it with another filled with conventional, less rarely-found found bullets.

The scavenger then stood up, ignoring the creaking from his old bones and the mutilated corpses of the raiders and dogs he had to put down just to access the billboard. After climbing down, he dug inside his knapsack and took out a bottle of water he received from Codsworth, and a small razor he scavenged from the nearby raider camp.

His beard had grown over the years into a massive, dirty gray mess, and honestly, he preferred himself to look much more like his old, prim and proper self before heading out further west to Illinois in order to visit some old colleagues.

Augustus wistfully smiled as he shaved. His fellow Americans were in for quite a surprise.

* * *

 _Författarens anteckningar och ansvarsfriskrivning:_

Hey, I'm running a little late, but I made up for it by making a super long chapter, didn't I?

 _ **DIDN'T I?!**_

Here's the disclaimer:

The _Fallout_ franchise is owned by Bethesda Softworks LLC. All rights reserved, I own absolutely nothing. Totally.


	6. Another Moment of Your Time, Please

**Sherbrooke Street, Greater Montreal, Canada**

Canada, or "Little America", as the invading American troops have taken to derogatorily calling it, was in the middle of being forcefully annexed by the United States Armed Forces. The Canadian Armed Forces — after a pitiful and humiliating series of lopsided engagements with the technologically and numerically superior USAF — was just recently overrun, leaving the Americans free to do as they pleased with the defenseless, resource-rich, northern country.

Of course, small, isolated pockets of CAF stragglers were still hiding out all over the provinces, waiting for the time to reorganize and strike out against their occupiers when the right opportunity presents itself. It was for this very reason did Captain Kryger's company — an independently operating, slightly irregular "foreign-born citizens' unit" primarily made up of naturalized immigrants from Germany and Austria — actively patrolled down the streets of Montreal.

They were tasked to find and eliminate the remaining CAF threat, non-lethally... or otherwise.

"Hey, captain! You know some French from that short news broad you've been getting comfortable with, right?"

2nd Lieutenant Wolfhard Braun, one of Kryger's company platoon commanders from Saxony, asked out loud in German. Like the rest of his fellows, his voice was given a noticeable, somewhat distorted quality thanks to the T-51b power helmet enclosed around his head.

"The European kind of French, sure." Kryger evenly replied, his accent heavy with a distinct Swiss intonation.

While Kryger had always been a proficient linguist (a fact that USAF Command intimately knew about and ruthlessly exploited), he knew for a fact that his German was much better than his French because very early in his peacetime career, he found himself frequently setting up shop over at a prominent US Army installation in a densely-populated, heavily German-speaking section of Zürich — usually for several years at a time.

"What can you tell us about these people then, Jim?"

For this mission, Kryger was fortunate to be assigned to work with his best friend, 1st Lieutenant Roger Maxson. While Maxson didn't share Kryger's enthusiasm for foreign languages, the man was also fluent in the German tongue thanks to his extended stay in the same Zürich base.

"I'm curious; what're they saying?"

Kryger briefly looked around as he and his men continued marching down Sherbrooke St.

The local Montreal residents were gathered at the side of the disused main road as usual, hurling furious oaths and extended strings of profanities at the power armored American soldiers in Québécois French as the latter marched past. Sometimes, a few civilians even had the nerve to start tossing around tin cans and other junk, but these agitators were usually apprehended swiftly by nearby MP's.

The captain grimaced at the sight. His company's second most important objective was to pacify and placate the civilian populace; to endear them to the American cause in order to smooth out the annexation process. Unfortunately, almost every Canadian they came across proved cold and unfriendly at best and downright hostile at worst. It didn't take long for all the hate and negativity to affect the Americans, and soon, everyone had given up trying to make peace with the locals altogether.

"Eh, the usual." Kryger monotonously told Maxson. "Yankees go home; long live "free" Canada; death to America... fuck the Bruins, and all that nonsense."

"I could scare them away, sir."

2nd Lieutenant Bernhardt Waldschmidt, a towering mountain of a grim-faced, minigun-wielding Bavarian offered. "Since we're in for a long march down this freezing socialist hellhole, we might as well make the journey a little easy for us by hosing down a few dozen of these frogs. Just say the word."

"I'd rather you save those bullets for our targets, lieutenant. Because unlike these people, they shoot back." Any other people would have thought the man serious, but Kryger knew much about Waldschmidt's peculiar, very German style of humor.

"What hope could those limp-wristed moosefuckers have against two hundred men in power armor, anyway?" Another platoon lieutenant, a Steiermark-born heavy weapons platoon commander named Konrad Krause, said.

"They're not even worth the ammo. It's a pain in the arse to carry them around, but hey, they're fucking expensive."

Another Austrian, 1st Lieutenant Walther Scherrer from Salzburg, laughed a bit.

"True enough, brother. Besides, Quebec Command wants us to be seen as liberators and protectors from the Chinese... not resource-grubbing barbarians. You hear that, Bavarian? It's probably not a good idea to start killing people for idiotic, half-baked reasons."

Kryger and Maxson were both cringing at the sound of the Scherrer's voice streaming through the radio. Since the mood was relatively calm and no actual hostiles were in sight, one condescending sentence out of Scherrer's mouth usually marked the beginning of a gratuitous verbal battle between the German half of the company versus the Austrian half.

"You gorge-shitters _would_ know a thing or two about getting us Germans to kill people for idiotic, half-baked reasons, no?" Wolfhard took the bait from Scherrer. "And it only got worse after a certain corporal went insane after being rejected from art school then the better half of his testicles blown off by the frogs."

"Maybe so, but you bullheaded piefkes never fail to make it so easy for us." Scherrer could be practically heard smirking. "It's like you _want_ us to tell you to start murdering people."

"We wouldn't be so receptive to the Nazis if we weren't swimming in our own filth and worthless reichsmarks after the British and the French were done being greedy, vindictive arseholes at Versailles." Waldschmidt haughtily scoffed.

"Your country was in shambles in the first place because of your own incompetent kaiser, piefkineser." Konrad snickered as he pitched in, obviously intending to fan the flames.

"You cousin-fucking Habsburg!" Wolfhard, being a little younger than the rest of the company, wasn't known for having a cool head. "We were _bound_ in a defensive treaty! No matter of stupid it was, Kaiser Wilhelm had no choice but to rush in and save your ungrateful hides from those Slavic bastards!"

"Hah, and look how well you "saved" us from the Slavs, my northern friend!" Scherrer's voice conveyed how giddy he was to tick off his colleague. "We could've taken the Russians and the Serbians to the _east_ together, but you filthy sow-Prussians just _had_ to go _west_ to attack Belg—"

"Alright, you damn huns! I think that's more than enough chatter for one day, and in case you forget: you're all _Americans_ now!" Kryger chose to intervene just as his company started to march past the semi-famous Canadian landmark: the McGill University.

"I don't want everyone going at each other's throats while we're on task... _especially_ while we're in potentially hostile territory."

"Listen to the captain, gentlemen. We could be walking into a CAF ambush at any time." Maxson joined in. "We could all compare the length of our bratwursts much later, when we're in the clear."

"You just mentioned bratwursts, Maxson. I think you just made the Bavarians in this outfit hungry."

While most of the men promptly shut up, Konrad just couldn't resist mouthing off for a final time. "You're salivating inside that helmet, aren't you, Waldy? Come on, admit it! You _love_ the taste of _long_ and _juicy_ —"

 _Beep-beep!_

One of the soldiers marching at the front stepped on a hidden CAF anti-tank landmine, and it promptly exploded. Normal infantry out of power armor would never trigger mines of such nature, but the weight of the T-51b suit was enough to set it off.

"Contact! CONTACT! HOSTILES IN SIGHT!"

Kryger heard Wolfhard shout even as the ringing in his ears worsened. Dazedly looking around, he could see charred bits of the soldier's shattered body and corrugated pieces of steel from what used to be power armor scattered all over the blackened pavement.

"Lock and load, soldiers!" Waldschmidt cried out for all to hear while bringing his minigun to bear. "We've got CANUCKS! Joint Task Force!"

More than twice the Amercans' number in Canadian JTF2 commandos emerged from their hiding spots all around the perimeter of the university, brandishing missile launchers and all kinds of high caliber firearms such as FN 2064 battle rifles, MC847 laser machine guns and McMillian TAC-50 anti-materiel rifles. Before the Americans could all take full stock of the situation, four exposed privates were done in by concentrated small arms and missile fire.

"Heavy infantry, break cover and march!" Despite the initial casualties, Kryger still sought to exploit the power armored nature of his company. "Safeties off, weapons free! Contain the perimeter!"

Two T-45d and T-51b shock platoons led by Maxson and Wolfhard moved out of cover to engage the enemy head-on, drawing most of the fire to themselves. Kryger, leading Waldschmidt's and Scherrer's T-60a assault platoons, ordered the men evenly split into two halves before having them skirt around the main assault to attack the Canadians' left and right flank respectively. Behind them, Konrad's platoon stood behind with the mortars, fat men, machine guns and heavy incinerators to provide long-range support while guarding everyone's rear flanks in case Canadian reinforcements arrive.

Quite soon, as the Canadians started taking heavy losses to Kryger's power armored company, it became apparent that most of these "commandos" were in fact just civilian fighters equipped with weapons to fight their American occupiers with. Some of the bodies Kryger had personally dropped look astonishingly young, and it wouldn't be _that_ far-fetched to think they were university students.

"CAPTAIN KRYGER! For chrissakes, we're fighting goddamn TEENAGERS here!" Maxson resounded over the radio in English. "They're just— just _throwing_ themselves right on our guns!"

"I hear you!" The captain responded after inserting a fresh plasma cartridge into his gun. "Rifle platoon leaders, I want all troops to prioritize every JTF2 personnel in sight! From now on, all civilian combatants are to be regarded as secondaries!"

"What about us, sir?" Konrad calmly asked from the back. "Do you still need fire support?"

"Negative, Lieutenant Krause, do not engage! I repeat: do _not_ engage! Hold fire and keep on overwatch!" Kryger firmly ordered. "We'll take it from here on out! Wait until—"

"Long live Montréal! Long live _FREE_ Canada!"

One of the guerrillas — a young man in university staff uniform — scooped up a mini-nuke from a fallen JTF2 commando and broke into a dead sprint towards the nearest group of clustered Americans.

Unlike Kryger and Scherrer, Waldschmidt never hesitated. Pulling himself out of cover and spooling up his minigun, the Bavarian immediately then hosed down the man as he ran in the open, ripping him to bloody shreds with 5mm HP rounds and inadvertently triggering the bomb he was carrying.

"Augh!" The mini-nuke exploded dangerously close to Kryger's position, temporarily blinding him along with some of his soldiers. When he regained vision in his eyes, the surviving Canadians have already started to withdraw into the university in the face of the American onslaught.

Maxson and Wolfhard's combined forces gave pursuit, though only Wolfhard's troops ever fired upon the fleeing guerrillas. But even then, they took care not to hit those not in BDU's and combat armor. With four-fifths of his men gathered just outside McGill University and with their foes bunkered down tight inside, Kryger gave the order to prepare for breaching actions.

"We've shaken them, sir." Maxson said as he ambled up to Kryger. "Most of them aren't even proper soldiers... they'd probably surrender if we give them the chance."

" _Or_ they'd blow themselves up once we get close enough to negotiate." Wolfhard said, wiping the blood staining his visor. "Have you heard about what the Canucks have resorted to in Vancouver, captain? They've been doing that many times before."

Scherrer reloaded his assault rifle and nodded. "I agree with Lieutenant Braun. I think we'd be much safer off if we just obliterate the place from across the street with high ordinance explosives."

"I... no, we can't do that." Kryger shook his head despite seeing the wisdom in their words. "Killing university students roped into fighting for their country and leveling a city block just to flush them out isn't the way we do things in this company. We _have_ to negotiate, but we'll do it _safely_."

"How do you propose we do that, captain?" Waldschmidt pried off a spent 5mm ammo box from his minigun and replaced it with another.

"This is the JTF2 we're dealing with; we'll be exposing ourselves to one of the best marksmen in North America, and even our power armor could only do so much against concentrated anti-materiel fire."

Kryger didn't answer him. Instead, he adjusted the external vocalizers on his helmet, amplifying his voice to speak as if it was being funneled through a loudspeaker.

"Attention all Canadian Armed Forces personnel, this is Captain Kryger of the United States Army!" He declared from under the safety of cover.

"We have McGill University locked down from every direction! I'm giving you the chance to surrender before we are forced to resort to violence! Should you choose to submit, I assure you: you _will_ be treated fairly in accordance to the Treaty of—"

"Fuck your treaties, Yank!" A young Québécois guerrilla had the gall to expose herself to American fire by breaking out of cover and standing out in the open just to address Kryger up close and personally.

"Understand that we'll die first before we let those tyrants, murderers and fascists in Washington lord over us, deprive us of our basic human rights and drain our resources dry!"

Kryger shared her sentiments. He'd much rather die on his feet than let some foreign power such as China dictate how he lived and strip his country bare, should they prove victorious.

But still, it was his duty to serve his leaders, not to doubt them.

The captain similarly removed himself from cover, but he had the advantage of being encased in T-60c power armor. "I'm more than willing to personally see to it that you receive proper treatment while under our custody, and even beyond that."

Unexpectedly, Maxson also left cover, his plasma rifle slung over his shoulder and his hand held up in a non-hostile, placating manner.

"Please, we do not want to have to kill civilians. You and your colleagues still have long lives ahead of all of you, ma'am... don't throw it away by making enemies of us."

The guerrilla spitefully scoffed. "Didn't you just hear what I just said? We will not allow ourselves to be ruled by _any_ oppressors, much less yours! We'd much rather die now, than live to see our beloved city RAPED by the likes of—"

"Alix..."

Everyone turned and saw a small group of guerrillas exiting the university through the front door, their hands placed over their heads in a passive, non-hostile manner.

"The soldiers let us leave. I'm sorry, but I don't think we were thinking straight when we volunteered to fight the Americans..." One of the guerrillas said. "The way they fight, I can see now that this is pointless. We're surrendering."

"Gorden...?" The woman hesitated for a moment before she regained her focus. Upon doing so, however, she was furious.

"How could you even _think_ of submitting to these people? A single day of freedom is worth more than a life spent chained in slavery and oppression!"

"The American is right, sister... I'm not throwing my life away just for our so-called "freedom"... it's not worth it." The man said, firmly and without doubt.

"Honestly, I don't see much difference between our government and the new one in Washington. At least the Yanks are honest about how bigoted and xenophobic they are."

The last words out of the guerrilla hit the men hard, including the captain himself. Being mostly composed of press-ganged immigrants who were categorized for the language they shared and forcibly assigned into a unit deliberately kept separate from "true" American servicemen, they couldn't help but think on the man's words closely.

"Traitor! Coward! You are no brother of mine!" As for Alix, the woman's grip on her McMillan rifle threatened to break it in half as she watched her former comrades walk towards the waiting arms of Kryger's company.

"Before long, the Americans will show you _true_ and _endless_ suff—"

 _THOOM._

She suddenly stopped; Kryger's eyes shot wide in surprise and confusion. The woman's rifle slipped from her grasp as she took a couple of steps back — a red bloodstain was rapidly expanding from the area of her stomach.

Maxson snapped out of his shocked trance and called to his fellow soldiers. "MEDIC!"

Just before Alix lost her balance and fell, Maxson rushed in and caught her, cradling her body in his power armored arms as he knelt down. Kryger and Waldschmidt were at their side in a moment — the former to provide help and comfort, and the latter to act as a bodyguard for his commanding officer.

"Captain Kryger." A new voice streamed through the radio. "This is Major Hellas. General Babcock caught wind of that mini-nuke explosion and he figured you could use a little help with our flamethrowers. Those krauts you have for "soldiers" can rest easy now; we'll take it from here."

Kryger started grinding his teeth. "Dammit, Hellas... we _have_ the situation _well_ under our control! Tell your giggling, doped-up pyromaniacs to pull back and let us handle this!"

"That's _Major_ Hellas to you, captain!" The other man haughtily responded. "And no, we're _not_ turning back. The general has given us a direct order to burn this commie moosefucker university to the ground to serve as an example to this province's ungrateful population!"

Within moments, the rumbling of incoming flame tanks was felt and even before that, wings of VB-01 vertibirds flew overhead, locking down the surrounding airspace while also preventing any attempts at escape from the besieged Canadians.

After a very short while, hostilities between the two sides swiftly resumed as a barrage of bullets, lasers and missiles flew out of every opening in McGill University, targeting Kryger's men as well as the patrolling aerial craft. Even as the conflict intensified with the arrival of Major Hellas' mechanized infantry, Maxson never made any attempts to abandon the woman in his arms. He shifted his body to shield her from incoming fire while Kryger reluctantly stayed by his side, looking on in complete loss on what to do.

"Captain! Lieutenant! We need to get out of here, now!" Waldschmidt dutifully kept his guard around Kryger and Maxson, emptying volley after volley of minigun fire on the enemy positions. "This position is compromised! We're sniper bait out here!"

Soon, Waldschmidt was forced to stop firing just to let his overheated gun cool down. "Maxson, that woman's dead; leave her! We can't—"

 _KA-THOOM._

"Urgh!" The lieutenant flinched and staggered backwards after an enemy round struck and penetrated his chestplate, leaving out the other side. Calmly, he swiveled his head to regard his superior officer.

"Captain K-Kryger... we h-have to—"

 _KA-THOOM._

"Gharkh!" Waldschmidt let his minigun slip from his grasp as he fell, gurgling and weakly clutching at his gushing, mutilated throat. A JTF2 sniper blew a gaping hole out of it with an anti-materiel rifle.

"BERNHARDT!"

In a moment, Scherrer rushed to his fallen comrade's side and pulled him out of the firing line, leaving a small trail of blood from where he dragged Waldschmidt's body. Kryger reacted differently, rather he scooped up the wounded guerrilla's own McMillan sniper rifle and swiftly countersniped the offending marksman.

"Maxson, this isn't the time!" The captain gripped his friend's shoulder after disposing of the rifle. "Come on, leave her!"

When Maxson didn't react, Kryger gave the man's armored shoulder a rough, anguished shake. "I'm _ordering_ you to leave that woman _,_ lieutenant!"

Even more of Major Hellas' forces arrived: T-60a urban assault troops carrying flamethrowers and incinerators as well as armored vehicles fitted with similar flame-spewing devices. They took some casualties trying to advance past the Canadians' wall of bullets and lasers, but most of them — thanks to the pain-inhibiting effects of the combat drug "psycho" — managed to shrug off the barrage of attacks and got close enough to set the entire building ablaze with sticky napalm.

"Don't shoot, let 'em BURN! Ha hah!"

Hellas' drugged-up flamethrower troops laughed together as they stopped to witness JTF2 commandos and guerrillas running out the university through the doors and jumping from the windows — either out of a desire to surrender, or to flail around wildly as the napalm stuck to their bodies slowly and painfully cooked them to death.

"AaaaAAAARGGHH!" A flailing commando screamed incoherently as the napalm slowly devoured his flesh, fused his skin to his combat armor and melted his eyes in their sockets.

"Please kill me!" One of the burning guerrillas reached out towards the power armored Americans, even as entire sections of her charred, blackened skin literally slid off from her bones. "Pour l'amour de Dieu, _ME TUER !"_

Most of Hellas' troops stood their ground and offered no such mercy.

"This is for Vancouver, motherfuckers!" One of the soldiers, obviously high on the effects of psycho, gleefully shouted as he hosed down a surrendering group of Canadians with his flamer.

"Squeal! Squeal for your WORTHLESS lives, pinko sons-a-bitches! Ah ha ha ha HAH!"

Kryger was appalled to see such a disturbing sight. He felt deeply ashamed to even consider himself an ally to these war criminals, but he knew for a fact that despite his status, there was very little he could do to stop Hellas' men. General Babcock's word was law in Canada — there was no going against his orders.

"You see..." Alix gasped out, her shrunken eyes were completely focused on the cold and expressionless visage of Maxson's helmet. With a gaunt, shaky hand, the dying guerrilla pointed to the fiery scene of carnage and death being wrought upon her kind by their merciless, power armored foes.

"This... is what our people will have to endure..." The woman clenched her teeth. "...under you..."

The captain looked away as her arm went limp. Maxson's call for a medic was never heeded... Alix died from blood loss, but her eyes were still wide open, accusatively staring at Maxson and Kryger both.

"Captain?" Konrad's uncertain voice came through the radio. "I just heard from the men... Lieutenant Waldschmidt just died."

Maxson and Kryger both stood silent as the conflict steadily died down; there were barely any Canadian fighters left to keep resisting the American siege.

Konrad coughed, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry, but I've got more pressing news: Hellas just tried to commandeer my men — he wants us to direct all incinerators and mini-nuke launchers on the JTF2 structure's coordinates. What're your orders for us, sir?"

Kryger sighed as he patched himself through. "Do as he says, Lieutenant Krause. Kryger out."

After Kryger logged himself out, the scorched McGill University was then systematically leveled by one fat man and incinerator volley after another until nothing of the once proud, prestigious institution was left except for a burning, radioactive husk.

* * *

 **Cambridge Police Station, the Commonwealth**

Kryger's eyes snapped open. He swore he could still feel the sweltering heat and smell the putrid stench of burning flesh. He instinctively jolted up, but he immediately stopped when he looked down and saw himself.

Except for his officer's trousers, his entire outfit was gone. Both his arms were in makeshift cloth slings and his chest was wrapped in thick, blood-soaked bandages. Looking around, he found himself inside a dusty bunkroom, with the only source of illumination being the tiny amount of sunlight slipping through the boarded-up windows.

"Urgh..." The major pried off the sling supporting his left arm and looked into his pip-boy. According to the device, he'd been out cold for a little more than a day.

"Who said that?!" Codsworth suddenly barged into the room, his arsenal of guns, blades and a flamethrower bared. "I throw down the gauntlet, intruder! I challenge you to a formal duel of—"

"Hey, buddy..." Kryger picked himself up from bed and yawned.

The robot stood to attention. "Oh, sir! Thank the heavens you're awake! How do you feel — do you need further medical attention? Those Brotherhood fellows spent the previous day scavenging for food and medical supplies as a reward of a sorts for all you've done!"

"No, I don't need any more meds. I just needed some shut-eye, that's all."

"Well, you must be just _starving_ , then! Huh ha, the others are just settling down for lunch at the mess hall, and I think they'd be more than honored to share their table with you."

"Seems fair." The major nodded. "I should probably get my clothes back. Where are they?"

"Just to that locker, sir!" Codsworth gestured at the object in question to the far side of the bunkroom with his claw-grip. "And _I_ should be heading out to tell them you're coming! Hah, and I think I should give you some privacy too while I'm at it!"

Thus, Kryger spent the next two minutes removing the bandages covering his chest before slipping into uniform and armored greatcoat. The latter was slightly marred by the new damages it sustained the previous day, but it shouldn't be a problem to repair once he acquired the necessary components. After all, Kathérine made him promise to wear it proudly, and he'd be damned if he let it fall apart around him by the seams.

Once he was back looking like his usual self, the major stepped out of the room, navigated the former police station and rejoined the group. Before they noticed his presence, he could see Danse still in his power armor, reading from a dirty, somewhat tattered magazine with the words "WASTELAND SURVIVAL GUIDE, COMMONWEALTH EDITION: HOW TO SPOT SYNTHS" etched on the back. As for Preston, the Minuteman was playing a game of cards with Scribe Haylen. Piper looked to be in the process of successfully conning Rhys into giving her information about the Brotherhood, and Olin was examining a docile Codsworth with a clipboard tucked under her arm.

"Look who it is." Haylen was the first of them to take notice of the major, setting down her stack of cards. "Our savior returns to us!"

The rest of the group stopped what they're doing to greet him. Most seem happy to see him up and about, but for some reason, Danse, Olin and Rhys remained neutral to him, only greeting him with a curt nod and a few muttered words.

"Uh, hello." Kryger uttered, after a moment of silence. "Where the hell are my weapons?"

"In due time, outsider." Olin said. "Why don't you take a seat and let us get you something to eat? There's something Paladin Danse and I wanted to speak to you about."

"You can speak to me now. What do you want to talk about?"

"We insist you eat first, citizen." Paladin Danse set his magazine down a counter. "But do tell us: do you have a craving for Fancy Lads Snack Cakes?"

Kryger was perplexed at the seemingly random question, though he did smile at it. The fact that a large, intimidating man in power armor just asked him if he favored a treat made for small children was somewhat comical.

"Well, for breakfast, I'd much prefer a good, non-irradiated can of Cram and Blamco Mac and Cheese, to be honest." He replied as he walked up to a table and took a seat.

Danse nodded, and Olin next to him took out her clipboard and started scribbling down notes. Something clearly wasn't right.

"Very good." The senior scribe muttered. "Haylen, give the outsider what he wants."

Kryger watched as the lower-ranked scribe carried out her orders, digging out a can of (irradiated) Cram and a box of (also irradiated) Blamco Mac and Cheese from a rotten cupboard. She walked up and placed the items on his table.

"Dig in, outsider." Olin said as Haylen walked away. "You don't mind us if we observe you for a while, do you?"

Piper scoffed and shook her head. "Give it up, Olin. I'm 100% sure he's not just an Institute knock-off — he's the real deal."

"We don't know for sure, citizen." Danse turned to her. "Best we just get on with this."

Kryger frowned, "I... don't know what's going on, exactly. But I _am_ hungry, so okay." He then started to eat.

Danse, Olin and Rhys looked on carefully as they examined every single detail. Kryger felt extremely uncomfortable while he ate, he felt their eyes boring into him, studying him for a quality they hoped to spot in him.

"I dunno guys, he looks pretty gen-you-wine." Piper looked completely bored out of her mind by the time Kryger finished eating. "Look, can we wrap this up? We still need to find his son."

"He's got a son?" Olin looked surprised. "Fascinating. What happened to him, why are you trying to find him?"

"He's been kidnapped by the men who murdered my wife." Kryger decisively replied. "We're heading out to rescue a detective who could help us find my son from the Triggermen."

"I see." The senior scribe scribbled down a sentence without even expressing her condolences. "What was your son's name... and what of your wife, what's her name?"

"Shaun. Kathérine."

"Your wife — her name sounds foreign. Where did she come from?"

"France. She was born in Brittany and lived in Paris for most of her adult life. After we got married, we settled in Sanctuary Hills... we lived together for three years before the bombs fell."

" _Before_ the bombs—" Danse cut himself off. "Outsider, do you _really_ believe you're Major James Józef Kryger?"

Kryger pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Yes! Yes, I _AM_ Kryger! Christ!"

"Then tell us how you're even fucking ALIVE!" Rhys, who was dead silent for the entire time, suddenly stood up shouting. "Explain yourself, wastelander! Convince us how you're NOT JUST A _GODDAMN_ SYNTH!"

Kryger clenched his teeth. "Cryostasis. My family was reserved a spot in Vault 111, and we managed to get there in time just before the nukes fell and burned everything down. The doctors there told us to enter "decontamination pods", but in truth, they were cryochambers."

He sighed, "We were put in cryogenic suspension for a couple of centuries. The next thing we knew, a group of armed strangers broke into the Vault, shot my wife in the head and took my son. I got out of the Vault just a few days ago, and I've been looking for these murderers ever since."

"Likely story!" Rhys scoffed.

"He's telling the truth." Preston said. "He showed us the ice-machines where his family was put into ice, and the terminal entries all around Vault 111 proved everything well enough."

"Indeed, and as for me, I've waited two complete centuries for his return." Codsworth piped in. "The moment we were reunited, I just knew he was the Major Kryger I used to serve. No mere masquerading machine could ever do a marvelous job of mimicking my master so!"

Danse put a power armored hand to his chin as he turned to Kryger. "Your Mister Handy displayed many signs of self-autonomy time and time again. That string of alliterating words cannot be made by a simple machine."

"Codsworth is sentient, yes." Kryger nodded, not thinking it too important to worry about. "Why... is he—"

Danse grumbled. "That makes _it_ a technological monstrosity, citizen. "Codsworth" needs to be destroyed for the abominable act of expressing free thought."

Kryger suddenly bolted up from his seat, glaring at Danse. "You can doubt me all you want about who I am and ask me anything to make you feel more comfortable with me around, but the moment you lay one metal finger on my robot, paladin, I'll break you in half."

"Fearsome words from the unarmed civilian facing down a Brotherhood paladin in a suit of power armor." Danse loomed over Kryger, attempting to intimidate him into sitting back down. "Care to show us deeds?"

"That's enough, you two!" Olin placed herself between the two men just before they could come to blows. She thought that while Danse was a capable CQC combatant in his power armor, the outsider _did_ face down and sucessfully kill an ancient behemoth with just an electrified sword... even if she _was_ unconscious throughout the whole process.

"We have more important matters to worry about!" She indicated at Kryger. "We're still not sure if he's still a synth or not — we need to determine if he's really what he says he is!"

"You're wasting your time..." Piper got herself a cigarette and started smoking out of boredom and annoyance.

Olin ignored her and kept her focus on Kryger. "Outsider, I'm going to ask you a series of questions about Major Kryger's life, and if you want to prove to us that you really aren't a synth, you'd do wise to answer them all."

"So let me get this clean and simple: you're going to ask _me_ , of facts about _myself?_ " Kryger sat back down, an irritated look was on his face.

"Do you have access to pre-war records? Because I'm not backing down if you think I answered incorrectly — I'll not have others tell me how I lived my life."

"Well, as a matter of fact... we do." Haylen stated.

"We have extensive knowledge of Major Kryger's life after we discovered bundles of US government files and terminal-based information in the Citadel. We even know of a few things he did on his country's behalf that were considered classified by his superiors."

Kryger tilted his head to the side. "The... Citadel?"

"Don't play stupid, wastelander." Rhys was still glaring at him.

Even Haylen seemed irritated at the knight's overblown belligerence. "Back before the bombs, records indicate it used to be called the "Pentagon", sir."

"Ah." Kryger nodded. "I guess that makes sense. Let's get this interview over and done with, Olin, we're burning daylight."

"Right..." The senior scribe curtly flipped a page from the stack of papers attached to her clipboard.

"Records indicate Major Kryger wasn't originally from the United States. He immigrated with his parents from another country as an infant. Care to tell us where exactly did he _really_ come from?"

Kryger could already tell his company was going to be in for a long and boring time. "Kraków, in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. Eastern Europe."

"Very good, outsider. Early in his service to the US Army, Major Kryger spent nearly all of his time stationed in another foreign country in Western Europe, where he acquired an aptitude for learning foreign languages, such as German and Italian. Which country was that?"

"I was stationed in Zürich, in Switzerland."

Olin arched a brow. "What's a Zürich?"

"It's just a Swiss city." Kryger sometimes forgot that he was deep into a post-apocalyptic nightmare.

"Right, moving on..." The senior scribe shook her head and flipped a page.

"...a few years after war broke out with China, Major Kryger, then a captain, was assigned to lead a company-sized unit of immigrant-soldiers specifically because of his knowledge of German. This unit went on to be distinctly well-known back in the States for its actions in China, Canada and Southeast Asia... what was this unit designated as?"

Kryger folded his arms across his chest. "Army High Command never bothered to give it an official one. They assigned soldiers like us to take to the front in every major engagement and expected us to all die within the first few months of fighting."

"Your answer is a bit more morbid than what the Citadel documents implied, but that's more or less... correct." Olin slowly nodded. "But what was your unit popularly called — most prominently by the American, Canadian and British press?"

Kryger smiled a little, in a way that nobody noticed him do so. "Kryger's Kriegers."

"Catchy. I like it." Piper pitched in again as Preston uneasily shuffled on his seat.

"Indeed," Olin agreed with her — which was something that surprised the reporter.

"Grammatically wrong, according to those who knew German, but yes. It has a certain... appeal... to it. Anyway, let's press on."

Olin tore off a page from her stack of clipped papers and stashed it away. "While in Switzerland, there was a well-documented case of how you actually got yourself court-martialed and temporarily discharged from the Army, but there wasn't any mention of the reasoning behind this. What can you tell us about this?"

Kryger noticed how Olin started addressing him directly, instead of referring to "Major Kryger", or "him". This gave him a slight bit of hope, but as for the specific question she asked, he _detested_ it. It reminded him of too many memories he had long since repressed by drinking and burying himself in his work.

"I don't feel like answering this question."

Olin narrowed her eyes at him slightly. "And why not, outsider?"

"It's a private matter. I don't feel like discussing it with people I barely know."

Olin stared at him in silence for a long, uncomfortable while. "We'll get back to this later. My next question is an important one; for a while, I'm going to assume that you are who you say you are, and accordingly know enough to answer."

"Right. Let's get on with it."

The senior scribe flipped a page. "What do you know of a man named Roger Maxson?"

Kryger was blindsided by the question. What sort of importance did his oldest, most valued friend and comrade have to the Brotherhood?

"Much. We met in high school, enlisted in the Army together immediately afterward, and got posted to the same US Army installation in Switzerland by pure coincidence. When war broke out, we watched each other's backs while out serving in Alaska, China, Southeast Asia and Canada."

"The records indicate as much, yes." Olin nodded as she wrote down notes. "But none of them indicate your _personal_ relationship with Captain Maxson. Enlighten us, if you'd please."

Kryger shrugged. "There's nothing else that needed to be said besides the fact that he was my best and oldest friend. He saw past my status as an immigrant and treated me like a person, not a potential enemy. I only regret that one of the last things I said to him was a threat... he only deserted from the Army because he thought it was right."

He reclined on his seat, closed his eyes and sighed. "Poor Maxson. He probably died somewhere in his last posting, the Mariposa R&D Installation. Another victim of senseless old-world greed, prejudice and paranoia."

Recon Squad Gladius was struck silent for a while.

"By all that I hold sacred..." Danse was the first of them to speak up, with a reverent tone in his voice.

"Senior Scribe Olin, there is only one surviving US Army record in _existence_ detailing where Captain Maxson was last posted — and it's sealed inside a fortified vault deep under Lost Hills. There's simply no way _anyone_ outside the Brotherhood's ranks could know about this particular fact... not even the Institute."

The paladin let out a breath he was holding in. "I can't believe I'm saying this... but this man _just_ might be Major Kryger indeed..."

Haylen seemed just as awestruck. "My God. I'm at a loss for words, sir. Major Kryger — alive and well in this day and age... I could hardly believe such a thing..."

"He could very well be the m-most advanced synth the Institute ever made..." At this point, Rhys was clearly trying hard to deny the truth. "There's— there's just _no way_..."

Piper smothered the smoldering end of her cigarette in a smug, self-satisfied manner. "Totally not a synth, Rhys. You better believe it."

"Piper, don't you think you talk a little too much?" Preston finally mustered the courage to speak his mind.

"Nope. Why'd you ask?"

Preston sighed as he turned back to his cards. "Never mind."

Olin merely flipped to another page. "I'll have to agree with Rhys on this one. Forgive me, outsider, but as a scientist, I'm always inclined to doubt."

She paused to think. "Though... there is one more question I could ask you — one I'm sure no one else besides Major Kryger himself and the government he served would know the answer to..."

"...well, besides the Brotherhood, of course." The woman then quickly added.

Kryger scratched his stubbled cheek. "I'm listening, ma'am."

"Okay," She paused again to re-check all her notes both old and new. "Just three months before the bombs, Kryger's Kriegers was among those chosen to be the vanguard of a highly unusual US Army offensive against the Chinese... very, _very_ far away from home soil. Which country am I referring to?"

The major shook his head. "It's not a country. I wouldn't consider the moon as a part of any country's territory, though some did come forward to claim it."

"You're... you're serious?" Preston spoke up. "The moon? Like, the one up there?"

"Uh-huh." Kryger nodded. "Our war with China reached up even into space. That mural in Concord should tell you all about that."

Danse looked to Olin. "Are we done here, senior scribe? Even discounting the fact that he knows a lot of things he really shouldn't if he was just an Institute reproduction... he looks pretty damn biological to me."

"Almost," Olin responded. "One last thing, outsider: what was the purpose of that operation on the moon? It seemed every bit like another fruitless vanity project of some senile, old-world politician, doesn't it?"

"That's because it is, and not just on our side." Kryger said.

"The US Congress wanted to rewrite history a bit. Specifically, they wanted to eradicate any evidence that the Chinese ever landed on the moon... that meant the faded PRC flags planted there by previous taikonauts, and the bases used to temporarily house them. Instead of using more... subtle actions, the government sent a couple thousand soldiers to remove the flags and dismantle the bases, but as chance would have it, the Chinese thought about doing the same to _us_ , too."

He closed his eyes, trying to envision the horrors he experienced that particular day.

"It was a massacre for everyone involved; we fought the PLA in an environment with little gravity and almost no natural cover against high-powered lasers. We still won in the end, but I lost a few lieutenants and three entire platoons to the enemy..."

Kryger opened his eyes, scowling bitterly. "...all for just a couple of whited-out flags and bases hardly anyone ever used."

He finished to see the four Brotherhood members all staring at him.

"Any more things could bring to light?" He offered. "If that's all, my company _really_ should be heading out before something happens to our detective."

"Recon Squad Gladius," Paladin Danse was the first of his kind to speak, as per usual.

"Rise up."

Rhys, Haylen and Olin immediately stood to attention. Danse slowly ambled up front, placing himself next to his brother and sisters.

"We... we have indeed discovered one of the most influential figures in Brotherhood history, alive and well..."

The paladin actually seemed overwhelmed, as if merely speaking proved difficult.

"In all my years I never thought we'd live to witness a day as auspicious as this... mere words cannot express how deeply honored we are to be here... in your presence, Major Kryger."

Haylen beamed, sharing Danse's sentiments,

"The rest of the Brotherhood would be extremely pleased to know you're still among the living, sir! I know Proctor Quinlan and Senior Scribe Neriah would be just _thrilled_ to make your acquaintance!"

Olin kept a much more reserved stance towards Kryger.

"Hm, I still have my doubts, but the answers you've provided me can't be denied. I guess we could take your word for it that you are, indeed, genuine."

Rhys sighed.

"I'm sorry I doubted you before. I really am." Was all he said.

"Wait," Kryger was more than a little dumbfounded by the much warmer reception he had been getting from the Brotherhood. There was still one unanswered question lingering in his mind.

"Olin, why did you ask me about Roger?"

The senior scribe smiled. "Captain Roger Maxson, despite the odds, survived the apocalypse and led a few others from the Mariposa science base to the Lost Hills bunker in California. Your comrade — your _friend_ , was the Brotherhood of Steel's very first high elder."

Kryger looked on owlishly in shock.

"He created the Brotherhood as we know it, major." Danse pitched in.

"High Elder Maxson created _us_ with the sole intention of preventing another nuclear war through rampant technological misuse. As men like us know: technology is power — it is strength. If the blind, the ignorant or the mad managed to get their hands on it and then _harnessed_ it for the wrong purpose, technology can very easily plunge this fragile world we've struggled to rebuild screaming back into the darkness that was the Great War."

Kryger remembered Maxson's words from the day before the bombs, how he declared his intent to stop carrying orders from those who would misuse technology. He morosely nodded to himself — Danse's story had merit.

"I see. Roger gave you a noble goal, and I wish you all the best to achieve it."

But then he stood up. "It's been... enlightening, but I do have my own objectives to fulfill. If you'd kindly give my weapons back, we _really_ need to get back to finding my son. We've used up enough time here."

"Hold on there, sir." Rhys halted him with an outstretched, open palm.

Danse took a couple of steps forward. "It's enough that you're a _living_ Brotherhood Paragon, but the way you handled those mutants we fought off the other day was more than enough to convince us of your worth to our cause."

"Didn't you say the way he handled those mutants _must_ mean he's a synth?" Piper said, smug and impertinent as ever.

"At first." Danse reluctantly clarified. "I won't lie, sir. We considered executing you after you killed that behemoth and went unconscious. I never thought an ordinary human could defeat such monstrosities the way you did and remain relatively unscathed... but then Olin and Haylen discovered that you actually broke both your arms when you delivered the killing blow."

Olin then looked to Kryger as her colleague finished, tucking away her clipboard.

"Your arms — do they still hurt, by the way?"

"Every inch of my body is hurting, senior scribe." He remarked. "But I'd be damned if I let a few overused muscles slow me down. I'm going to find and bring back Shaun... if it kills me."

"We understand your plight," Olin tried to sound sympathetic, but she couldn't quite mask her usual clinical tone-of-voice. "And we'd be happy to lend you our aid just as you have aided our squad... but it'd also be wise to consider that you'll make it much easier for us if you're a full-fledged member of the Brotherhood."

Paladin Danse nodded at her before turning to Kryger.

"We'd be more than honored to have you join us, brother. I'm sure High Elder Maxson would've wanted to see you fill our armor and serve mankind his way. Truly, there could be no more worthier cause — no duty more _sacred_ , than the one he bestowed upon us."

Kryger always knew Maxson was a devoted scholar and admirer of Medieval English historical mythology; him having to get his soldiers to talk like knights straight out of King Arthur fables was not entirely out-of-character for him.

"Join the Brotherhood?" He put a hand to his chin and set his jaw, pursing his lips.

"Do we get a say in this?" Piper asked, looking annoyed. "Because I think this isn't such a good id—"

"Piper, _no_." Preston stood up and halted her. "Kryger's choice is his to make... alone. Let him decide whether he wants to join the Brotherhood or not."

"Paladin Danse," But before the Minuteman even finished speaking, the major had already formed his decision.

"You're right about Maxson. Just after he told me his unit deserted, he offered me to link up with him at Mariposa if I ever get tired of how the Army operated. I thought hard about it, but then the bombs fell soon after. That was the last time we ever spoke."

Danse's face brightened up, looking hopeful. Haylen gasped, putting a hand to her mouth. Olin looked on evenly and Rhys tried to look indifferent.

"So you'll join us, then?" The paladin grinned, the first time Kryger had seen him done so.

"That's good... that's very, very good! The elder would be extremely pleased to hear—"

"Slow down, Danse." Kryger stopped him in his tracks with a pointed glare. "Give me some time to think about it, and I'll come find you. Understand that before anything else, my family comes first."

"Oh." The paladin immediately deflated. "We... understand." He uttered, solemnly nodding.

Without another word, he looked to Olin. "Senior scribe, would you kindly return Major Kryger's weapons back to him? It'd serve our interests best if he found his son as soon as possible."

She half-heartedly nodded. "Understood, paladin. Wait here, major."

As the scribe left, Kryger and his company spent a few minutes discussing other things, mostly about how the former planned to breach the Triggermen Vault and about his general health. It didn't take long before Olin appeared again, hauling around the major's arsenal of different weapons.

"Plain N99 long-barreled pistol chambered for ten-millimeter small caliber rounds," The senior scribe handed over Kryger's emergency sidearm. "Considered low-tech enough to be unworthy of confiscation from non-Brotherhood personnel."

Kryger scratched the back of his head as he slowly took the gun. "Uh, okay..."

"Heavily modified AER9 laser rifle configured with an ergonomic marksman's stock reinforced with steel fittings and configured with a selective fire feature, allowing for semi-automatic, burst and fully-automatic fire." The senior scribe then handed over his laser assault rifle in a curt, somewhat unenthusiastic manner.

"Other modifications include a makeshift beam-focuser, a military-grade reflex scope, and an internal fusion cell capacitor modified to overcharge every cell discharged for maximized energy damage in exchange for accelerated weapon degradation... definitely considered off-limits to wastelanders, but still not worth getting _really_ excited over."

Kryger carefully took the weapon. "I wouldn't drop this, if I were you."

"Indeed..." Olin seemed much more reluctant to take out and hand over the last bit of Kryger's field weaponry back to him.

"...and here is the centerpiece of your arsenal: a gilded US Army officer's sabre modeled after the Pattern 1796 Light Cavalry Sabre, made almost entirely from an unidentified, extremely hard and highly conductive type of alloy that allows for the integration of four miniaturized internal tesla coils for much deadlier, electrically-infused strikes..."

The senior scribe paused for breath. "The highly unusual qualities of the alloy also allows for the continuous laser sharpening of the blade's edge up to monomolecular proportions... which neatly explains how the sword managed to carve into the behemoth's thick hide so effortlessly."

The major was surprised to hear Olin knew so much about this particular piece of equipment.

"If our scribes ever found out this relic even existed, our leader would be sure to immediately send an entire contingent of paladins, knights and at least a proctor to retrieve this blade — to prevent it from falling into wrong hands." Olin said.

"Right, right, I get the point." Kryger frowned, annoyed. "If I was anyone else, you wouldn't even allow me to handle most of my weapons — evils of technology, and all that."

"In any other circumstance, yes. But you see, Major Kryger, you've more already proven to us that you are capable of handling your high-tech equipment responsibly," Danse said. "If it were up to me, you've more than earned the right to wield your weapons."

"Great!" Piper clasped her hands together. "Does this mean we're all free to go now? With _all_ our gear in place?"

Danse let out a subdued sigh. _"Yes_ , citizen, you may leave, as well as have permanent custody of Knight Keane's shotgun. Consider it a... reward, for services rendered."

"Speech check success!" The woman did a little fist-pump, to Preston's further exasperation. Codsworth just laughed.

"Alright, squad, gather your things and check your gear for issues." Kryger clipped his officer's sabre to his belt, feeling its familiar weight on his hip again. "We leave in five minutes; we still have a lot of ground to cover."


	7. A Man and his Dog

**The Commonwealth**

"Are you feeling well, sir?"

Kryger shook his head at Codsworth's worried inquiry. "Hardly."

He and his company of four just passed by the old Fraternal Post 115 building on their way to Diamond City.

"Wanna do something about it?" Piper shouldered her shotgun by the leather strap and gave the major a questioning look.

He glumly nodded, "Yeah, I could use a stimpak shot. Preston?"

"We're down to two syringes, sir." The Minuteman said.

"Hrmh, keep them. Save them for emergencies." Kryger turned back to marching forward, brusquely ignoring his comrades' concerned looks.

"So, Green..." Piper attempted to spark a conversation after a long, somewhat awkward pause. "That was quite the shocker, wasn't it? To find out that none other than your best friend founded the Brotherhood as we know it caught you a little off-guard."

"To put it lightly." The man intoned, sounding uninterested with talking, but did so nonetheless. "Through Danse's squad, the whole thing felt as if Roger wanted me to make up for lost time... by taking up the offer he made two centuries ago."

"Sounds spooky." She said. "You know, sometimes I could hear my dad's ghost whispering to me, giving me advice... _important_ _advice_."

"Yeah? Like what?" Preston dared to ask.

Piper shrugged her shoulders. "Don't take advice from ghosts, because they're _dead_ and seriously out of touch with reality."

"...You _really_ don't like the Brotherhood, do you?" Kryger frowned at her a bit. "Tell us, what did they do to piss you off so much?"

The woman crossed her arms and scowled. "Isn't it obvious? The fact that they care for no one but their own and nothing except amassing technology, expanding their borders and making people who live in their territory utterly miserable should tell you all about how bad they are for the Commonwealth. These jerks have more power, influence and resources than they deserve."

"Huh." Kryger stopped to think on it. "You're not being snarky and overly dramatic again, are you? With you, Piper, it's hard to tell at times."

Piper opened her mouth to say something harsh and cutting, but abruptly stopped before she did so. "Okay, I'll give you that."

"She's right though, major." Preston pitched in. "Years ago, the Brotherhood used to care for the common folk — back then, they weren't unlike the Minutemen. They organized regular combat patrols around the downtown DC area to wipe out super mutants, raiders and Talon Company mercs; paladins and knights set up checkpoints all over trade routes to keep merchant caravans safe from attacks, and the scribes even distributed free water and food supplies to wasteland settlements at some point."

"Then it all just... changed." The Minuteman frowned mournfully, shaking his head. "Nobody outside the Brotherhood knows why, but one day, the patrols were suddenly recalled, the checkpoints were dismantled then quickly abandoned, and the scribes started distributing water _only_ to those who could pay a steep price for it."

Piper nodded her agreement. "Also, there were plenty of rumors about how the Brotherhood started conscripting people, demanding supplies, and confiscating advanced tech from the local settlements at gunpoint soon after these "changes". I haven't been to the Capital Wasteland to see for myself, but knowing the Brotherhood, I'm sure these rumors have _some_ merit."

Kryger sighed, "Noted, Ms. Wright."

Although he supposed what the two of them said _could_ be true, he tried to reserve judgement until he could see how the Brotherhood really operated with his own eyes. "We should keep moving."

Codsworth vocalized a displeased sighing sound. "Master, I think we should put to mind what our two mutual friends said very closely... remember when Paladin Danse threatened to disassemble me — for the "crime" of simply expressing free thought? It's simply mortifying to think that Danse's entire order shared this... highly disturbing mindset, about robots like me."

It's not every day Codsworth sounded remotely close to being angry, and moments like this never failed to make Kryger stand to attention.

"Maybe so... but we don't know for sure." His marching pace noticeably took a slower, more deliberate turn. "You know how much I hate discrimination of any kind, Codsworth. On my word, I promise you: you'll have nothing to worry about from the Brotherhood."

"I appreciate it, sir." Codsworth was immediately back to his chipper old self. "Now that that business is settled, perhaps we should divert our attention to the dog following us around?"

"Dog?" Piper gave the robot a bewildered look. "I don't see any dog..."

Kryger had better eyes. "Squad, hold. Eyes up front, over by that overturned car."

The four of them stopped on their tracks to look at what Kryger was indicating at. Indeed, upon closer inspection of the area, one could see a dog's black and tan coat sticking out from the overwhelmingly brown and gray, ruined environment.

"Could be a feral." The major switched his rifle to fire semi-automatically. "Take positions up ahead, people. I'll take point. Codsworth, with me. Preston, I want you to—"

"Woof!"

The large dog, clearly a German Shepherd or a mongrel resembling one, suddenly jumped out of its hiding place and leisurely ambled over to Kryger and his company.

"Bark, bark!" The canine's pace was slow, its ears were erect and its tail wagged off from side to side, signifying its docile, unaggressive demeanor.

"Hello...?" The major put his rifle away and went down on a knee as the dog approached, looking up at him with bright, cheery eyes of brown.

"You don't look like a feral..." Kryger reached out to the dog with a gloved hand, but held his N99 pistol with the other, ready to fire off a quick shot should the animal prove hostile at the very last second.

"Beautiful dog." Preston observed as Kryger warily let the canine sniff and lick his outstretched hand.

"Oooh, he looks kinda cute!" Piper cooed. "Green, do we have room for him? I'd like to keep—"

"Bark!" Suddenly, the dog lunged, snapping at Kryger's heel.

The major instinctively took a quick step back. "Whoa."

"Bark, bark! Woof!" The dog then whirled around and bolted off, straight ahead and out of sight.

"Hah. That was rather strange, wasn't it?" Codsworth piped in as the group watched the animal disappear into the ruins. "If I'm not mistaken, I think he wants us to follow him!"

"We don't have time for that." The major stood up and drew back his assault rifle. "Forward march, squad. We're almost up to Diamond Cit—"

"Bark, BARK!" Unexpectedly, the dog turned up into sight again.

"Woof, bark!" It enthusiastically whirled around in circles a few times before heading out back to where it came from, disappearing from sight once more.

"Okay, he _definitely_ wants us to follow him." Preston said, adjusting his hat.

Piper looked to Kryger. "So what do we do, Green? His master could've sent him off to look for help."

Kryger scoffed. "The dog might be sent by raiders to lure people into ambushes, you know. But whatever, I could use a little target practice either way."

He gestured for his group to follow him out. "Let's move, squad. Follow that dog!"

* * *

 **Elsewhere...**

"Just die already, fucking yokel!" A Gunner private hefted up a blood-caked aluminum baseball bat and swung it at his opponent's head.

Paulson easily crouched under the merc's rather clumsy attack. Before the latter could recover his stance, the former swiftly counter-assaulted by ramming his Winchester Model 1873 lever-action carbine's walnut stock against the man's jaw with all his might, sending the Gunner staggering backwards a few feet before falling on his back against the pavement. The ex-rancher turned bounty hunter then wasted no time shooting off a pair of .44-40 Winchester rounds into his downed opponent's chest, putting him down permanently.

After cycling the lever of his repeating carbine to eject the spent cartridge and load a new one into the firing chamber, Paulson hopped up from cover, took aim and swiftly obliterated another approaching merc's head with a well-placed, scope-assisted round.

"Ah, fuck! God, auugh!" The dead merc's partner recoiled in palpable disgust when the man's brains and skull fragments flew her way, splattering themselves all over her. She had enough time to wipe her face free of the stuff before Paulson blasted her with three shots to her torso in quick succession.

More Gunner mooks swiftly replaced the ones he put down, but Paulson was quick to pick them off before they could even get close enough to effective pipe rifle range. This routine continued for an entire minute until the last of the attacking mercs finally got the drop on the ex-rancher.

"Hold it, Paulson!"

The man grit his teeth as he heard rapid footsteps coming at him from behind, along with the telltale clacks of guns being prepared for use.

"Put down that rifle and put up your hands where we can see them! Right now!"

Paulson slowly did as he was told — dropping his half-loaded weapon from his grasp and spreading his arms slightly to the side in surrender.

"It's a carbine, son." The defenseless man breathlessly snarked.

"Shut the fuck up and turn around! Slowly!"

Paulson prepared himself to move as he faked compliance. Turning around to face his would-be captors, he found himself somewhat surprised to see a group of eight teenagers and young adults in dirty green fatigues and rotten combat armor.

"Aren't y'all a little too short to be playin' war?" Paulson spat his cigarette to the ground, even as some of them cocked the guns they were pointing at his head.

"If you don't shut it, I'll have Corporal Brown bury a shell into your kneecaps, yokel." The other man threatened, though the abnormally high pitch of his young voice ruined his attempt at intimidation.

"Corporal Dorn, Private First Class Ellis, search him for guns and restrain his hands!" The Gunner sergeant then ordered, and his underlings promptly moved to obey. "Captain Wes wants this bastard alive! He'll _pay_ for crossing us at—"

"Bark, bark!"

Paulson's eyes shot wide. He told his canine friend to run and save himself, but sure enough and true to his loyal nature, Dogmeat just couldn't abandon his master to be killed or captured by his enemies.

"Goddammit!" The lead Gunner cursed as he turned around, anticipating Dogmeat to suddenly appear around a corner to attack. "Griggs, Masterson, pay attention! You hear that? I want you to find and _skin_ this fucking dog! I want its fucking PELT, ya hear me?!"

Two of the Gunners saluted their leader in a sloppy, poorly-drilled manner. "You can count on us, sarge! We're—"

Paulson seized the moment while the Gunners had their backs turned to him. In a movement as quick as a shot, he reached down to his side holster and seized his old service revolver — a heavily modified, long-barreled Colt Army Model 1860 chambered for .44 magnum rounds. The ex-rancher then cocked the hammer, lined up his target from the hip and pulled the trigger.

As expected, the FMJ .44 magnum round obliterated the back of the lead Gunner's head, but before the rest of the mercs could even react to the death of their own, Paulson was already on the offensive once again. As if time itself froze in its tracks, Paulson emptied his entire six-shot cylinder on his foes in extremely rapid, lightning-like succession, fanning his gun every time he fired off a shot.

"Fuck!" One of the two remaining Gunners promptly lost her nerve after turning around and seeing most of her comrades dead on the ground. "Screw this shit, I'm getting the hell out of here!"

The other Gunner, however, reacted with blind fury. She screamed in incoherent rage as she put her minigun down against Paulson, spun it up and set it loose. Paulson scrambled to get to cover, and by the time he vaulted over the hood of a burnt-out car, three 5mm bullets have found their mark on his body — two on his torso and one on his right leg.

Paulson tried his best ignoring the pain while loading fresh bullets into his revolver, tentatively waiting for the bullets to stop flying. When it did, he only waited another second before hauling himself up, his pistol held at the ready to strike back.

However, instead of finding a Gunner in the process of cooling off her overheated gun, Paulson found Dogmeat innocently sitting next to the merc's corpse. The fur around the dog's mouth was noticeably bloodied.

"Hmph." The man allowed himself a satisfied smirk as he put his gun back into its holster. "Nice work."

"Bark, bark!" Dogmeat ran up to his master. "Woof!"

Paulson moved around the car and promptly collapsed on the ground on his knees, bleeding from his wounds. "Urgh. I told ya to _run_ , Dogmeat."

The dog tilted his head to the side and whined mournfully.

With more than a little bit of effort and hardship, Paulson dragged himself up to a sitting position, with his back leaning against a concrete pillar.

"Now, I'm going to need you to find me some meds..." The ex-rancher breathed out. "I'm gonna bleed out soon, so hurry—"

Paulson stopped talking after hearing more footsteps approaching. Cursing his rotten luck, the ex-rancher pulled his dog with him into cover and away from the open.

"Arh, on second thought," He quietly whispered as he drew his revolver. "Stay for a while, Dogmeat."

Paulson waited until the footsteps grew louder and louder until he was certain the Gunners were right on top of him. Wishing himself better luck, Paulson cocked his revolver, jumped up from cover and took aim at the nearest — and to his confusion — _only_ target: a dark-haired woman in a red coat.

"Whoa there!" She stopped on her tracks as Paulson made his presence known, but to her credit, she instantaneously reacted by taking aim at _him_ with her shotgun in kind.

"Should I be worried — are you some kind of cowboy-themed raider?" She asked in a flippant, half-serious way.

"Last I checked, no. I actually _like_ clean water, half-decent whiskey and a proper roof over my head." Paulson snarked, looking annoyed. "What about you, redcoat? Did the Gunners send ya my way?"

"Gunners? I didn't know they operated this far away from their territory." The woman replied. "Look, since we're obviously not enemies here, can we put the guns down and talk more like civilized adults?"

"Ain't happening." Paulson scoffed. "Unless you've got some meds I could use, I advise ya to turn around and walk away, little lady. I'm not desperate or just plain stupid enough to trust a pretty face just because—"

"Bark, bark!"

"Not now, Dogmeat." Paulson shushed his dog. "As I was saying—"

 _"Bark!_ " Dogmeat let out a shrill cry, drawing his master's attention again. "Woof!"

Paulson sighed. "Stay put, girl. One more step and I'll shoot yer ass dead. Count on it." He warned the woman before turning his sights back at Dogmeat. "Buddy, what is it now?"

The dog wagged his tail and looked to the side, gesturing at something. Paulson was just about to steal a glance at the direction his dog indicated at, but he quickly found that such an action was unecessary; a man armed with a laser rifle used the distraction the woman created to circle around his position, surprising him from behind.

"I'd advise you to lower that weapon, sir." The man in question, obviously a Gunner commander from the look of his clothes, cautiously advanced up to Paulson, holding his rifle in a firm, threatening manner. "We're not looking for a fight here."

Instead of complying, Paulson swiftly drew another revolver hidden from a holster strapped to his side and held it downrange against the Gunner commander, preventing him from moving closer.

"Sendin' yer girlfriend to hold me up while you scurry up to my back ain't gonna work, soldier-boy." Paulson cocked his second revolver's hammer. "I'm done runnin' away from Captain Wes like a goddamn coward. You're gonna have to kill me 'cause I sure as hell won't let y'all take us alive."

"Simmer down there, hotshot." The woman put her shotgun away, slinging it behind her shoulder. "I know Kryger there looks like one, but we're not Gunners."

"We followed your dog, sir." The man said, nodding. "He lead us to you."

Paulson arched a brow, but kept his guard around his present company. "That right, Dogmeat?" He muttered to his dog.

"Bark, bark!" Dogmeat panted and wagged his tail.

Paulson took a moment to decide what to do next. "Okay, my dog trusts you somehow. That's a good sign if I ever saw one."

"Lower the guns, sir." The man repeated, more firmly this time. "We're not your enemies."

"You first, stranger." Paulson insisted, though his voice made it out like a command.

The man hesitated for a second and took a bit of time assessing his situation and weighing his options before holding his laser rifle down, it's barrel pointed towards the ground. Paulson waited a couple of seconds before doing the same.

"See, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" The woman smiled.

Paulson scowled. "Hmph. That was stupid of you to trust a stranger to follow suit, expectin' him to be friendly."

He did a little twirl with both his revolvers before putting them back into their holsters. "Yer just lucky I ain't no raider, or you'd both be dead on the dirt right now."

The man in the green coat shook his head disapprovingly. "I'll have you know we prepared for something like that, sir."

He turned and looked behind his shoulder. "Preston, fall in! The area's secure."

The ex-rancher cocked a brow. A Commonwealth Minuteman quickly revealed himself from the shadows of his vantage point behind a stack of wooden crates, holding a glowing laser musket to Paulson's head with his finger just shy of pulling the trigger.

With a grimace, Paulson quickly realized that one tiny misstep was likely all it would take before he'd find himself turned into a little pile embers and smoldering ashes by an overcranked laser pulse. If he so much as _looked_ like he was about to betray these people's trust, he likely never would've lived to see another day.

"Alright, I guess ye're _not_ as stupid as most people I've come 'cross." Paulson tentatively watched the Minuteman vent the primed laser energy from his rifle. "Now would y'all mind telling this cowboy what... urh, what're y-you folks..."

Just then, the last ounces of adrenaline had fled Paulson's system. The effects of exhaustion coupled by his many injuries were almost instantaneous; his vision blurred, his knees felt weak and his grip on reality slowly ebbed away.

"...d-doin'... out 'ere...?"

The very last thing he saw before he blacked out was the ground rapidly approaching.

* * *

 **An hour later...**

"Is it working?"

"Not yet. Patience."

"Don't "patience" _me_ , Preston. I'm not a kid."

"What's _that_ got to do with anything? I just told you to be a little more patient."

"Well, you don't have to sound so condescending about it!"

"...Now you're mad."

Kryger started grinding his teeth in sheer annoyance. "Put the ammonia directly under his nose this time. He can't stay out cold for long."

Preston did as he was told without complaint. He did shiver a bit in disgust after he pulled the cap off the ammonia flask and caught a tiny whiff of the putrid smell, which was not unlike decaying fish... and perhaps even urine.

"I feel sorry for this guy." The Minuteman placed the foul-smelling cap underneath the unconscious man's nose. After a couple of sniffs in, he woke up with a jolt, with wild, bloodshot eyes and a face scrunched up in palpable revulsion.

"Jesus tap-dancin _'_ Christ!" The man exclaimed. His voice was low and gravelly, with more than a little hint of a Deep Southern brogue. "Did'ja bastards just put _piss_ under my goddamn nose?! Ugh, that shit is fucking rank!"

"Never heard of smelling salts before?" Kryger crossed his arms as he crouched down to the man's level, studying his appearance much more closely than before.

Just a few minutes after Preston finished stabilizing the man's condition with bandages and what few medical supplies the group still possessed, Piper and Codsworth had themselves a laugh while discussing the man's choice of clothes... which looked normal enough except for his cavalryman-styled boots, his weathered cowboy hat and the dirty, brownish-gray poncho draping a part of his body, making him appear like a character straight out of old spaghetti westerns.

"Who are you?!" The man growled, baring his teeth. When no one immediately answered him, he looked down and was surprised to see himself plastered in bandages.

"Relax." Preston held up a hand, "You would've bled out if we didn't patch you up. We're running low on meds, but we couldn't just let you die."

The man was struck silent for a while. He wiped his nose. "...I reckon you oughta expect somethin' outta me, then? I ain't got no caps... not after them Gunners nabbed them all."

"We don't take rewards." Kryger stood up. "We helped, and you lived. That's enough."

The major turned around and gestured for his squad to follow. "Let's move it out, people. We need to go around the ruined bridge before sundown."

Codsworth immediately took after his master. Piper shrugged her shoulders and followed after them without much ado. As for Preston, he took the time to pat the dog's head and hand over his master's scoped carbine back to him before standing up and heading off.

"Hey, hold up a second." Kryger heard the man speak up behind him. "Y'all are heading over to Diamond City, am I right?"

Kryger stopped walking and looked behind his shoulder. "We're going to stop by there for a while to collect our wits and trade off some of our excess gear. Why, are you heading our way?"

Paulson picked himself up from the ground and approached Kryger, slinging his carbine over his shoulder by the radstag leather strap.

"Hell no. I'm actually trying to get out of this godforsaken shithole as fact as my legs would allow me, but I can still stick around for a while and help you get there much faster than going 'round the bridge... if y'all are willing to get into trouble on the way, o' course."

Kryger thought about it for a while. "Well, if it meant we can save time traversing the river, then by all means — tell us all about this plan of yours, mister...?"

"Samuel." The man removed the glove covering his hand and offered the latter for Kryger to shake. "Samuel Paulson. This here's my canine wingman, Dogmeat."

"Bark, bark!" Dogmeat jumped up and down, wagging his tail excitedly.

Kryger took the man's hand and shook it. "Pleasure to meet you, sir. Major James Kryger, United States Armed Forces."

He then retracted his hand and indicated at his three traveling companions. "This is Preston Garvey, from the Commonwealth Minutemen; Piper Wright from Diamond City's Publick Occurrences paper agency, and my Mister Handy robotic butler, Codsworth."

"Howdy," Paulson tipped his hat to the major and his company. "United States Armed Forces? Are ya tellin' me... the Union— ahem, the _States_ , still has soldiers running around after all this nuclear post-apocalyptic shit happened?

Kryger shook his head. "Not anymore, I think. You're looking at the last of my kind, Mr. Paulson."

"Hm. Forget I said anything," Paulson frowned slightly. "Anyways, you folks know 'bout that bridge just up ahead, right? The banged-up one with a tugboat stuck underneath it called tthe USS _Riptide_? Most traders and wanderers oughta take one good look at it, call it quits and walk right 'round it 'cause they think they can't cross it — that there's no way across the gaps."

"Save it," Piper cut in. "I know the area around Diamond City. You can _technically_ cross Ackerson Bridge by going down to the tugboat and going back up, but the whole place is infested with raiders. The assholes even managed to rig up a few suits of power armor — that's why most people prefer to just avoid the bridge entirely."

"Ackerson Bridge _was_ infested with "raiders", little lady. That's a fancy name fer bandits ye've got there." Paulson chuckled under his breath as the woman glared at him, annoyed. "Back to the current matter at hand, three days ago, a Gunner crew of fifty men moved into the area, massacred the bandits and set up shop on the bridge,"

The southern man turned around, looking ahead into the horizon with the afternoon breeze tugging at his cloak.

"Apparently, just before the End Times, the tugboat under it was towin' a barge filled with guns, ammo, medical supplies and other useful shit when the bombs fell, and now, the Gunners wanna scavenge the barge for themselves."

"Alright, so instead of drug-addled rapist fiends, the bridge and the _Riptide_ are now being held by trigger-happy, thieving gun-nuts." Preston clasped his gloved hands together. "Tell us, Mr. Paulson, how does _that_ make the situation any better for us?"

Paulson smirked. "The bandits put up one helluva fight with them big metal suits and nuke throwers. I _saw_ the mercs go down to less than thirty men and some of 'em are still bedridden, too injured to even get up and move. With a little luck and the element of surprise on our side, I reckon these bastards'd be no match for a tight-knit crew with enough good shooters and plenty of ammo."

"If you don't mind me asking, sir," Codsworth seemed less than enthusiastic about Paulson's plan. "How do you know so much about the Gunners?"

"Me and Dogmeat are bounty hunters by trade, tin man. We take some of our jobs from them." The man answered bluntly. "Though not anymore. I could only stomach so much low-down, underhanded shit until I called it quits, so one day, I straight up and told my scoundrel of a handler to fuck right off when he offered me another dog-kicking job."

He grimaced sourly. "Suffice it to say, Captain Wes didn't take to my "resignation" lightly, and he's had his boys gunning for me and my dog ever since."

"...when are Gunner reinforcements arriving, Mr. Paulson?" Kryger then asked, after being silent for so long.

"If my darn watch isn't on the fritz again," Paulson pulled up his sleeve to look at the time. "...a little later in the afternoon. If we're gonna go through this shit, I suggest we ready up quickly. The mercs ain't gonna wait for—"

"Four minutes." Kryger brusquely cut him off. "Check weapons and stock up on munitions; we're storming the bridge in four minutes."

Paulson squinted. "You in a hurry or somethin', pardner?"

Kryger sighed. He was more than a little weary from his many duties before the war, still recovering from his recent wounds and even a little parched. But for Shaun, he'd sooner kill himself trying to find him than slow down his march.

"Yes... you could say that."

* * *

 **Sixteen minutes later...**

"Seven hundred yards to the foot of Ackerson Bridge. We've got two minutes."

Kryger held up and tapped his watch, showing it to everyone. His squad of five plus Paulson's dog took cover behind a building overlooking the Gunner-occupied bridge, hiding from the sight of enemy spotters.

"Preston, I'm partnering you up with Mr. Paulson in a sniper-spotter team. I need you to hold this spot with him and take out priority targets from afar, and don't forget to watch our backs for flankers." The major said, gesturing up ahead and all around. "Piper, you've got a shotgun — that means you're with me. Mr. Paulson, can Dogmeat obey simple commands?"

The man nodded in a dispirited, somewhat uninterested manner. "He's a smart dog, and I mean no overstatement when I say he's a fuckin' _genius_ if y'all ask me. Tell him to go fetch a bandit's gun from his side holster while he sleeps, and he'll get it for ya no problem."

Kryger, testing out Paulson's boasts, quietly whistled for the canine "genius". And indeed, Dogmeat was at his side in a second, looking up at him inquisitively.

"Okay, dog. I need you to go follow Codsworth, here." Kryger indicated at his robotic butler, whose two remaining eyes whirled around at the mention of his name. "I programmed him with basic combat heuristics; whatever he tells you to do, follow it."

"Bark, bark!" Dogmeat seemed to understand... for some reason.

"Hey, don't we get cool military team names like they do in the movies?" Piper asked the major. "I mean, we're all basically soldiers in a "squad" now, right? This'll make talking with each other easier, _especially_ once we get our hands on working radios!"

"It doesn't work that way, Ms. Wright." Kryger looked up ahead and drew his assault rifle in preparation for the attack.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think Piper's got a point, major." Kryger was surprised at Preston's admission. "At least the last part. If you're assigning the six of us into two-man teams, we need something you can call us with — something easy to identify in the middle of a firefight."

"I agree!" Codsworth seemed chipper at the prospect. "Rescuing Master Shaun is starting to feel more and more like Stalag 17!"

"You watched Stalag 17?" Piper seemed pleasantly surprised. "Color me impressed, Codsworth! I never knew you were a—"

"Alright, _alright!_ " Kryger pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Preston, Paulson, you are in Fireteam Baker; Codsworth, you're with Dogmeat in Fireteam Charlie. Piper and I are in Fireteam Able... at least for the time being. Satisfied?"

"What about the squad itself, sir?" Preston pressed on, annoying Kryger further.

"We need somethin' badass — somethin' that'll send bandits, injuns, chinamen and the English runnin' with their tails 'tween their legs." Paulson put out his thoughts, seemingly oblivious to the baffled looks he was getting from the rest of the team. "How 'bout... Texas Rangers?"

"Wow, Sam. I gotta say, you have that racist cowboy act down pat." Piper chuckled.

It was Paulson's turn to look confused. Dogmeat imitated how he tilted his head to the side and squinted his eyes.

"We don't _need_ a squad name. We're just wasting our time." Kryger sighed. He wanted to take control of the situation again, and quickly. "Piper, get ready. We're sprinting forward on my mark."

The reporter exuded confidence as she cocked her shotgun for emphasis. "Sure thing, Green."

The major nodded and gestured at the Mister Handy and his canine partner.

"Codsworth, I need you to keep at least a hundred yards behind us every time we advance. Your objective is to scout out surrounding area for external threats such as raider bands and super mutant patrols. Remember to _never_ set Dogmeat loose at the enemy except at _extremely_ close quarters. Unlike you, he isn't made out of titanium alloy — I don't want him getting himself picked off while caught out of cover."

The robot did a little salute with his claw-grip arm. "You can count on us, sir!"

"Alright, everyone set?" Kryger asked for a final time, and was met with eager nods and resolute faces. "Good. We got ten seconds... be prepared."

Piper removed her hat and stuffed it down her pack so it couldn't fall down her head in the middle of running. She only got so much as eight out of ten seconds before Kryger suddenly jumped out of cover and sprinted toward the bridge for all his worth.

"Hey, wait up!" She hurriedly dashed out of cover, trying to catch up to her partner.

Fireteam Baker watched Fireteam Able ran across the area toward the bridge, traversing the ruined environment and hiding behind cover as appropriate whenever Gunner spotters looked around for threats. While Able took a more direct route, Fireteam Charlie chose to navigate around the sides, keeping to the shadows of overlooking buildings while still trying to stay 100 yards behind Kryger and Piper.

Paulson loaded extra rounds into his lever-action carbine and cycled it. Preston simply looked behind his scope and spotted for potential targets. Codsworth and Dogmeat were nowhere to be seen.

Meanwhile, Kryger had reached a close enough position to engage the oblivious Gunner mercs in effective laser rifle range. He spent the next few seconds catching his breath while waiting for Piper to arrive, and when she did, he was quick to give her an annoyed look for lagging behind.

"Jesus, Green, you count fast..." In a hushed voice, Piper chided him in between breaths. "Last time I checked, eight seconds was _not_ ten seconds..."

"Enemy patrol at eleven o'clock, dead ahead." He gestured at the bridge itself, careful not to give his position away. "See those three mooks up on the bridge? Wait for them to come closer."

Piper gave him an exasperated look. She was just about to ask him about the significance of "eleven o'clock", but decided against it, merely hefting her shotgun up.

"Y'know, Manfredi still owes me two hundred caps when he got himself killed by the raiders..." One of the patrolling Gunners chattered away, unaware of the threat in their midst.

"Know any next o' kin, Johnson? I still have to get those caps back _somehow_..." The mook removed his helmet and scratched his head — a mistake.

"I heard he's got a sister in Goodneighbor." Another mook chimed in. "Pretty face, nice gams, but completely broke. No luck gettin' caps outta her, but there are _other_ ways a woman like her could pay..."

"You sick fucks." The other mook expressed in distaste. "We ain't no goddamn raiders no more. We're _mercenaries_ now, and I think it's high time you idiots start acting like—"

Without any sort of warning, the helmetless merc's head and upper body were riddled with bloody holes after a buckshot had its way through them. Piper was quick to switch targets and fire, causing her second victim to be blasted off from the bridge and into the irradiated river below, screaming all the way.

The last mook, instead of reacting with surprise, shock or fear like an ordinary raider, pulled up his hunting rifle and took aim at Piper in reflex. Just before he could depress the trigger, however, Kryger turned him into a pile of ashes and embers with a precise three-shot burst of his laser rifle.

In that instant, the rest of the Gunners were alerted to the danger at their doorstep. Fireteam Able was quickly forced to stay hunkered down under their small piece of cover as a veritable tempest of bullets, lasers and buckshot came down upon their position like a hurricane.

"It's bad enough that they've got us pinned, but my gun can't even hit anything at this range!" Piper exclaimed in frustration as enemy projectile fire landed all around them. "Green, have you got any— hey!"

Unexpectedly, Kryger turned to her and snatched her shotgun from her grasp. She watched in mild confusion as he proceeded to unload all the shells she previously chambered into the weapon, stashing them away.

"Not with normal buckshot, you won't." He took out new munitions for the gun from his bandolier: high-powered 12 gauge solid shotgun slugs by the looks of them.

"Here, try this." He handed over the gun back to her. "Watch the recoil."

Piper took the weapon, smirking. "You carry around slugs just for this occasion, do you?" She cocked it.

" _Always_ be prepared." Kryger forced a wry smile through his teeth. "Get ready to move up on my mark. This isn't the best place to return fire."

Indeed, even the Gunners needed to reload their weapons every once in a while. When the projectile barrage simmered down enough, Able vaulted out of cover and advanced, stopping to fire on exposed foes as needed before quickly moving on. By the time Kryger decided his fireteam covered enough ground, the two of them have already managed to reach the foot of the Gunner-held bridge, shielding themselves from hostile fire using a metal dumpster.

"Right, we'll make the best of our position here!" Kryger loaded fresh cells into his gun. "Return fire, weapons free!"

Over the course of three minutes, Fireteam Able traded gunshots with the Gunners. While Kryger felt his fireteam's accuracy and trigger discipline was acceptable, he quickly learned that they weren't enough against the heavy fortifications the Gunners erected over the past few days. He counted himself lucky at having sniped three hostiles who popped out of cover at the wrong time, as opposed to his partner, who only managed to down a single mook.

"We're not making much progress here." Kryger noted as he leaned back down into cover. "My lasers aren't having any luck penetrating their cover, and we don't have any heavy ordinance to flush them out."

He scowled at the grim suggestion he was about to make. "Piper, I think we need to get even closer, or we'll run out of ammo before long. What do you think?"

Beside him, Piper massaged her aching shoulder. "I'll snap off my arm before we run out of ammo at this rate. _God_ , the recoil on these slugs is _huge_..."

The major frowned at that. It wasn't obvious at first, but apparently, the reporter had been wielding her weapon wrong.

"Hold the shotgun closer to your body and hold it _tight_ — don't fire it from the hip and make sure the stock fills the pocket between it and your shoulder. Try the gun with my instructions in mind."

"Huh. Like this?" Without thinking, Piper brought up her gun using Kryger's methods, holding it up with the barrel end pointed directly at his chest.

Kryger swiped the barrel away and glared at Piper. He would've screamed the ear off a raw recruit who did such a thing back in his own time, but frankly, it was neither the time nor the place for a lesson in gun safety.

"You've a lot to learn." He growled as she looked at him sheepishly. "We're gonna have to advance. Get ready to move again on my sig—"

"MAJOR KRYGER!"

"...nal." He stopped upon hearing Preston calling out to him from behind. Kryger turned just in time to see the Minuteman and his cowboy partner hurriedly navigating the area to his fireteam's position, moving from cover to cover while trying to avoid getting shot.

"Preston, what the hell are you doing here?" Were the first words out of Kryger's mouth as Fireteam Baker reached close enough to him, taking cover behind a concrete fence. "Didn't I tell you to stay back and maintain overwatch? What happened out there?"

"Fuckin' Gunners happened!" Paulson exclaimed as the Gunners intensified their fire. "Them reinforcements I told y'all about? They came in early 'cause I didn't expect them to come in those whirlybirds o' theirs!"

" _Vertibirds_ , sir!" Preston adjusted his slouch hat as he shifted from cover to turn to Kryger. "They came in by vertibirds! Took us by surprise when they started pouring into our position, we almost didn't make it!"

"Oh, and now they're coming up from behind us, aren't they? They have us boxed in." Piper did not look happy.

"Not for long!" Kryger didn't plan on dying, and if he could help it, no one in his team would. "Popping smoke!"

Pulling a peculiarly-shaped canister from his bandolier, the major pulled the pin and tossed the object ahead. It only took a second before a large cloud of thick gray smoke seeped from the canister and obscured the surrounding area.

"Now's our chance!" Kryger gestured at the vague outline of the tugboat below the bridge. "Fireteam Baker, base of fire; keep them suppressed! Piper, you're with me; we're clearing the area! Advance!"

Able, supported from behind by Baker, left their position under the cover of smoke and the environment and charged headlong into Ackerson bridge itself. Enemy fire started to spread far and wide, missing their marks by embarrassingly large margins thanks to the smoke shroud coupled with Baker's fire support.

Kryger, being at the forefront of his charge, reached one of the makeshift staircases first. It lead from the midsection of the bridge to the tugboat below. He tried to watch his footing as he descended, but no amount of caution could prevent him from being knocked on his rear when a Gunner in jet-black T-45c power armor with flame decals emerged from the smoke and floored him with a heavy pneumatic kick, breaking some of his ribs and causing all the air to escape from his lungs.

"Wadda _fuck_ are yah tryin' ta do, son? Yah _actually_ try'na take me and my crew on?"

The power armored Gunner's thick Boston-accented voice was ridiculously angry and high-pitched, but it was made truly intimidating thanks to his helmet's external vocalizers. It didn't help that his armor was custom-made to look as demonic as humanly possible.

"Are yah wicked retahded or somethin'? Nobody crosses Lieutenant motherfuckin' Vance and lives ta tell about it!"

The Gunner lieutenant lifted the rocket-assisted super sledge in his hands to strike down the major, but was forced back by a close-range shotgun blast from Piper before he could land the blow.

"Argh! Son of a bitch!"

The Gunner lieutenant lifted his power armored gauntlet to shield his face as both members of Fireteam Baker started to contribute their fire, pushing him further and further back.

"Piss off, yah wastah yokels!"

With a furious, animalistic growl, he cast his super sledge aside and pulled out the light machine gun attached by magnetic locks to his thigh in order to strike back against his aggressors. Unfortunately for him, by the time he managed to point his gun at the three darkened figures taking potshots at him from the smoke, his original foe suddenly lunged at him, crackling shocksword in hand.

From behind the Gunner's T-45c helmet, Kryger could be seen sporting a rather disturbing grin on his face as he swung his weapon at his surprised foe. When it made contact, the very fine edge of the blade easily cleaved into the armor and the soft flesh beneath it, slicing the man's arm clean off before he could even fire off a machine gun burst.

"Huuurgh, aaargh!" The maimed Gunner lieutenant staggered backward, clutching at the gushing stump where his left arm once was. He seemed in shock at first, but once his mind finally came to terms with what just happened, he let loose a scream of pure terror and agony.

Kryger was still grinning when he descended upon his now hapless foe like a hawk after its prey. He took a long step forward and gathered momentum with a quick body spin, just before delivering a blow against the man's midsection that was so forceful — so _devastating_ — that the sharp, ear-splittingly loud impact of the blade against the armor was quite clearly heard even amongst the explosions erupting and the gunfire being traded.

"Lord almighty!" Paulson took a pause from shooting to clutch at his head. He wasn't the first to notice that the screaming suddenly stopped just then. "What in Sam Hill was that?! Anybody just hear that darned sound?"

"Sounded like something just got stuck in a fucking bandsaw." Preston shook his head to regain his focus, but his ears won't stop ringing. "Piper, have you seen the major? I saw him get jumped by a Gunner in power armor from the smoke and... whoa."

By then, the smoke had cleared up enough that seeing up ahead wasn't so difficult anymore, and just below the first staircase was Major Kryger, already taking the fight to the Gunners with his assault rifle in close quarters. Behind him was the gushing corpse of the power armored Gunner lieutenant, messily carved in half from the waist by a single, exceedingly powerful stroke.

"Now I've seen everything..." Anticipating a shootout at tight corners and enclosed spaces, Paulson stashed his carbine away and drew both his revolvers. "So, we goin' in or what?"

"We can't just stand here!" Piper had long since ran out of slugs and had resorted to using normal buckshot. "Come on, let's get down there!"

Meanwhile, Kryger felt right at home in his area of expertise: close-quarters fighting. The tight corners of the tugboat was an excellent place to put his training to the test, and after half a dozen easy kills in, memories of his previous tours started to overtake him. After a while, everything seemed to be automatic; his enemies would make small mistakes here and there, and he'd ruthlessly exploit them in response, often killing them outright when the opportunity presented itself.

For the next few seconds, everything he did seemed purely on instinct. War was his business, death was his craft, and he had the best tools of the trade. He only stopped after he pivoted around a corner and had his gun trained on a face he recognized, despite the hazy mist obscuring his eyes.

"Easy there, Green!"

Piper held a hand up to Kryger, who took a few seconds to respond with a few confused blinks.

"They're all dead. We killed them all." The reporter said, nervously looking at him with some uncertainty in her voice.

Kryger immediately felt his stomach churn in disgust at himself. He quickly pulled his gun away from his comrade, training it to the side.

"Sorry, I got carried away there. Where are the others?"

"The Baker guys are at the supply barge, trying to salvage anything we could use against those reinforcements we're going up against." She told him, having regained some of her usual cheer.

"Actually, if the Gunners want this boat so bad, what's stopping us from just leaving through the bridge? I mean, we did just clear out the area... we could just walk away, and that'd be the end of it."

Kryger had asked himself the same thing earlier while running over the bridge, and his many years of army service came up with the answer almost instantly.

"No, it wouldn't be the end of it. Paulson said they came in from vertibirds, right? If they have access to aerial craft, they'd catch up to us eventually. It's better that they do while we're entrenched in a defensible position like this."

"Unless they managed to get their hands on mini-nuke launchers and bazookas, of course." She snarked, but there was truth in her words. "By the way, we haven't seen Codsworth and Sam's dog in a while. Think they might've gotten into trouble?"

"Likely. I told them to watch out for threats, after all." He responded, but he didn't sound worried. "Codsworth knows where to find us, so our main concern should be the Gunners."

"Wright!" Both of them heard Paulson shout from the deck outside. "Ya found the major yet? He shoulda oughta take a look at somethin' we found over at the barge!"

"We're here!" She called back as the two of them left the inside of the tugboat and walked out into the deck. There, they found Paulson waiting outside sure enough, leaning on a corroded railing with his arms folded across his chest.

When he noticed Fireteam Able approaching, Paulson stood to attention. "You alright there, Kryger? Any snapped ribs the doc needs to take a look at?"

"No." Kryger kept stoic for the benefit of his team, though his chest did sting from the internal injuries he suffered. "What've you got for me, then?"

"Piles and piles of guns and ammo from most of the red metal containers, but there's one more we just couldn't fuckin' open." The man said as he gestured for the two of them to follow him to the supply barge.

"I reckon it's been sealed up tight by the army since before the chinamen fucked the country up, and hell, just about everybody tried openin' it since then... with no luck."

As the three of them ambled forward, Preston was eventually sighted down at the barge, tinkering with a suit of raider-built power armor left behind by its owners. He looked up when he saw the rest of his team coming.

"Major, do you have any fusion cores left? This suit's already depleted, but we can still make use of it with a new core."

Kryger took one of the objects from his pack and tossed it over to the Minuteman. "One left. Make the best of it."

"Sir, yes sir." Preston smiled as he caught the core in mid-air and fed it to the suit. When it lurched back to open itself, however, his smile promptly turned upside-down at the stench that wafted out of the armor's interiors. Raiders rarely shower.

"Right here," Paulson directed Kryger's attention to the largest cargo container on the barge.

It was painted in faded US Army olive green, and to the left of it was the white-star-in-a-circle emblem of the United States Armed Forces. Evident from the scratches, bullet dents, scorch marks and even plasma burns, scavengers of all kinds have tried forcing their way inside the container, but not one of them had succeeded so far, thanks to the extremely resilient materials used in its construction.

"Any bright ideas how to get it to open?" Paulson asked.

"Yeah." Kryger nodded. There's one thing he had that every other scavenger did not: authorization. "Search the container entrance; there should be a small terminal around there somewhere. All Model KV army storage containers have them."

Though Paulson looked around only for a brief while, he had to wipe away the scorch marks obscuring the terminal from sight before calling up the major.

"Ya oughta take a look at this, Kryger. Looks like a green glass screen with tiny letter and number buttons just under it. Hm, what sorta newfangled contraption is this now?"

"Let me." Kryger brushed the man curtly aside.

The terminal, though the monochrome screen was damaged nearly beyond repair, was clear enough in its prompt for outside input. In a routine, almost automatic manner, he typed in his personal government identification and authorization codes into the small, weathered keyboard.

 **[Input received. Welcome, MAJOR KRYGER, JAMES JÓZEF. You are interfacing with Shipping Container 28461-8462 Model KV-11, USS _Riptide_.] **

Those were the most eligible letters that came up on the screen. When nothing happened after a few seconds, Kryger thought the container's locking mechanism must've been too damaged to budge, when a loud thud from beyond its sealed doors was heard.

 **[Warning. Multiple container seal breaches detected. Emergency seals failed to engage. Protective tesla field generators disengaged. Package... released.]**

"Hmm. I guess that means it's open, then?"

Kryger turned to see Piper looking down at the terminal from behind his shoulder. "A little space, please."

"Oh, sorry." She took a step back.

The major brushed it off with a wave. He stood straight and placed his hands on the heavy steel door sealing the container shut, and with a grunt, heaved it aside, exposing the contents of the Model KV to human eyes after centuries of storage.

What Kryger saw inside made his heart lurch. Rows and rows of pre-war suits of T-51f power armor lay dormant and pristine through the many years of constant death and bloodshed. Kryger figured that in order to restore their functionality, the suits need only new fusion cells to replace the depleted microfusion reactors that used to power them.

"Holy Mary, mother of Christ." Paulson visibly crossed himself upon coming to terms with what he saw inside the container. "Y'all know what this means, right? If the Gunners got their mitts on these, there ain't nothin' in the Commonwealth that can stop 'em besides the NCR, or the Brotherhood."

Kryger steadied himself. "You're right. That's why we need to stop them here. Make ready."

* * *

 **In the distant ruins, much, _much_ farther than 100 yards from Fireteam Able...**

"So let me get this straight, _robot_..."

If Codsworth had the capability to sweat, he'd be doing so now under the cold and unwavering scrutiny of the Brotherhood Paladin named Danse.

"Major Kryger's squad ran into a large group of Gunner mercenaries just south of here, near the wreck of the USS _Riptide_ and Ackerson Bridge. Things seemed to go well until your rearguard was forced to flee by Gunner reinforcements arriving via converted vertibird gunships, and by your own observation, these men counted a small number of elite power armored infantry among their number."

Codsworth bobbed up and down in a meek, visibly nervous manner. "Yes... that's what transpired down there, sir. Nasty bit of business, that."

"So you abandoned your master's previous directives to stay within a certain amount of distance to him in order to make your way here." Senior Scribe Olin phrased her words to sound less like a question and more a statement.

"You want us to come with you and help the major out of trouble, just like he did with us."

"Well... yes, in essence."

Danse took a moment to himself in contemplation. When he moved, he looked to Knight Rhys and Scribe Haylen at one corner of the police department. Somewhat unusually, they seemed to be taking turns trying to pet the dog Kryger's robotic manservant had brought along.

"Rhys, pay attention. I need you and Olin to stay here and guard the precinct," He ordered.

"While our mission to keep this station under Brotherhood control is ultimately our only goal in the Comonwealth, we still cannot willingly let our sole surviving paragon face danger without our assistance. In doing so, we'd make for poor excuses for Brotherhood soldiers."

"As for you, scribe," Danse then turned to Haylen. "I suggest you pack up whatever gear you require and prepare yourself for combat. In five minutes, we'll leave the station to make sure the major remains unharmed."

"Paladin Danse," Olin uttered the man's name firmly. "Scribe Haylen is resourceful and quick to adapt to most situations, but I still feel the need to stress the fact that she still lacks the valuable combat and medical experience that I do possess in ample measures. In her place, I suggest you allow me to accompany you instead."

"We've had this discussion before, senior scribe. I am under orders not to allow any sort of danger to come to you." Danse replied in the same, steely tone.

"To _hell_ with those orders, paladin!" Olin snapped. "Need I remind you that as one of the Vindicated, I outrank _everyone else_ in this squad? I tried not to make use of my position while allowing you to take the lead over the course of our journey, but now you've forced my hand!"

Olin grabbed her laser shotgun from a nearby table and started loading fresh fusion cells into it as she continued with her angry rant.

"I've always _despised_ being tucked away in a "safe" corner, waiting for danger to pass while accomplishing virtually _nothing_ of note! I trust that you understand that whether I have your approval or not, I'm going to do something dangerous and _worthwhile_ for once — on my own volition!"

Everyone was silent for a while, even the dog.

"Scribe Haylen... stand down." Danse, with a voice heavy with reluctance and disgust, broke the silence. "Specialist Olin, make ready. We move in three minutes."

Olin was reserved in her victory. "Thank you... paladin."

Danse sighed. "Don't forget the tesla cannon. The machine _did_ mention hostile vertibirds in play."

* * *

 **In the airspace above the USS _Riptide_...**

"The objective's in sight, men! Get ready to deploy on my orders!"

Sergeant Peter Walsh, a Gunner squad leader, braced himself in his power armor as Captain Persching announced the situation. His squad's vertibird lurched and shook as it started to slow its approach in the air.

"Remember, our mission comes first!" Persching continued over the radio.

"The intel we've uncovered from the US Navy base west of here told us all about a shipping container filled with complete suits of T-51f power armor, but Lieutenant Vance's advance force was just reported to have been attacked by unknown contacts minutes before they could start recovering the suits. We have to get down there and take what's rightfully ours before these attackers do!"

Walsh grimaced at that. He was looking forward to getting himself a new suit; his old T-45c was starting to come apart by the seams thanks to frequent use. Now, however, it looked like he would just have to work and kill a few waster yokels to earn his shiny new T-51f set.

"Holy shit, would'ja look at that!" Corporal Elliot, the squad's forward observer, leaned out of the aircraft's side doors. "Lieutenant Vance's troops got fuckin' _massacred_ down there! Wadda fuck jus' happened 'ere?"

"What? Lemme see." Walsh pushed aside his troops to take a look at what Elliot was seeing. Indeed, it was as if a super mutant warband just plowed their way through the bridge, killing every Gunner personnel they encountered. There was no sign of the true attackers, however, and he found it hard to believe that the two-man sniper team his fellows drove out earlier could do so much damage.

"From what I've heard, Vance was a good soldier; he'd have put up more of a fight than this..." The sergeant frowned as his eyes came across the bisected corpse of the subject at hand, splayed on one of the makeshift staircases leading to the tugboat.

"No bodies except for our own. Who could've done this?"

A few minutes passed without incident as the vertibird circled around the bridge and the tugboat. After deciding he had seen enough of the desolated scene of bloody carnage, the colonel announced that troops should head down and investigate the area for answers and survivors.

"Hang tight boys," Flight Lieutenant Larsen, the pilot, warned the men in her craft. "Lock and load, we're touchin' down now!"

Immediately after the VTOL's wheels touched the ground at the first segment of the bridge, Walsh's squad filed out of the aircraft, weapons drawn and prepared for combat. Around them, more Gunner soldiers entered the field via other vertibirds or on foot.

"Fan out, squads!" Captain Persching started hurling around orders immediately after departing from his own aircraft. The man was accompanied by his own cadre of personal elite bodyguards. "Search the boats and examine the corpses! I want—

"CONTACT!" Corporal Elliot suddenly cried out, pointing at something on the _Riptide_. "Watch it, HE'S GOT—"

There was a pressurized hiss, followed by the sound of a fast-moving projectile sailing across the air. The next thing Walsh knew, he was shouting for his men to take cover as Lieutenant Larsen's departing vertibird suddenly disappeared in a large, incredibly loud explosion in mid-air, showering those unfortunate few directly below it in a hail of burning steel and high-speed shrapnel.

"There's a fucking waster in a T-51 suit down there!" A Gunner private exclaimed, after things have calmed down a bit.

"Then what the FUCK are you standing around here for?! He just obliterated one of our birds!" Persching fumed. "Swarm him! Bring me his head!"

"Captain, maybe we should tie the fucker up and beat some answers outta him first?" Walsh brought up his thoughts to his commander.

Even a relatively inexperienced Gunner officer like Walsh knew how unwise the captain's decision was. It would serve their mission far better if the man was captured and interrogated for information; after all, he did manage to get himself a suit from a seemingly impenetrable shipping container.

"Shut the fuck up and fall back in line, sergeant!" Persching, however, was too furious to even listen to his subordinate. "Do you know how much work was put into making that vertibird the idiot just blew up even _LEAVE_ the fuckin' ground?! This power armored _bastard_ must be made to PAY—"

* * *

"And... now!"

Paulson, acting on Kryger's command, pulled the trigger on his lever-action carbine. The .44-40 Winchester round hit the Gunner leader by the mouth — shattering his front teeth, obliterating his tongue and blowing open a bloody hole at the back of his head.

The ex-rancher cycled his gun, ejecting the spent, smoking brass casing in a showy, overly dramatic manner.

"Sleep tight, ya loud bastard."

As the dead man dropped to the ground twitching and convulsing, the still-living, power-armored sergeant next to him jolted to attention. He only got so far as to shoulder his gun and fire off a burst of panicked rounds before he was riddled all at once with lasers from Kryger, buckshot from Piper, and carbine rounds from Paulson.

"Kill them!" Kryger sought to utilize his team's advantageous position to its full extent. "Fire at will!"

The Gunners took notice of the threat close to their midst too late as their attackers let loose with their weapons from their exposed right flank, systematically dispatching entire groups of clustered men in a cold and merciless, clockwork-like manner. Within minutes, about a full quarter of their own were cruelly cut down by Kryger and his fireteam, littering their area of the bridge with bodies and blood-splatters.

"Regroup! REGROUP!" One of the mercs ordered as he watched his comrades get mowed down like cattle. "Break contact and regroup! Now, dammit, NOW!"

Kryger, having years of combat experience under his belt, knew what was going to happen next.

"They're gonna come up in force!" He shouted over the gunfire. "We need to pull back into the _Riptide_ and hold them back from there!"

"They're runnin' scared!" Paulson shouted back in indignation. "I say we press the attack! We—"

A hostile vertibird suddenly appeared from the squad's exposed left flank, with its door gunner clearly in the middle of spinning the barrel of his minigun.

"SHIFT POSITIONS!" Kryger shouted. Piper and Paulson needed no more motivation when the door gunner opened fire, ripping apart the squad's previous cover and forcing them to hunker down behind the burnt-out husk of a truck.

By the time the vertibird door gunner stopped to let his overheated gun cool down, most of the mercenary ground forces have stopped wavering and started fighting back, taking potshots at Preston down from his position at the _Riptide_. Even inside the protection of his own suit of T-51f power armor, the Minuteman was still vulnerable from armor-piercing attacks, and he was very quickly forced to stop attacking in order to take shelter under deep cover.

"Did anyone get shot?" Piper inquired as she pulled herself up to stand. "Anyone hurt?"

"I'm alright here," Paulson said, also standing up. "Kryger?"

The major grimaced; he didn't stand up. Blood was seeping out of a wound on his leg. "We need to pull back to the boat. Now."

"Green, you're wounded." Piper crouched down, she seemed worried. "How bad is it? Can you walk?"

"I'm fine. I can make it." He muttered through clenched teeth. With obvious difficulty, he pulled himself up to his feet. "Come on, we need to get back to the _Riptide_."

"That's lookin' pretty bad, Kryger." Paulson gestured at his wound. "I've got some morphine here in my—"

"Stow it!" The major snapped. He started to jog toward Preston's position while holding up a hand, motioning for his squad to rally to him. "Move up, move up! Get to the boat and assume defensive positions! Double time!"

With every step, Kryger felt an excruciating jolt of pain shooting up his leg, but he did an admirable job in suppressing it. Just like in Anchorage, he couldn't afford to look weak when everyone counted on him to lead.

"Through the staircase, quickly!" As enemy projectiles flew over his head and all around his sides, Kryger let Piper and Paulson through before heading down himself. In his haste, he nearly tripped over the corpse of the Gunner lieutenant he sliced in half minutes earlier.

"Sir!" Preston greeted the major as he approached, even as Gunner small arms fire kept him huddled behind cover. "They're not letting up, but at least they aren't trying to blow us out of the water!"

"That's because they're after the suits!" Kryger exclaimed over the sounds of battle. "If they blow up the boat, they'd have to pull their prize from the bottom of the river!"

"Good for us!" Preston briefly peeked out of cover and fired off a quick burst before re-entering concealment. "What do you need us to do, then?"

"Hold position and keep them back." The major responded, more calmly this time. "Paulson, can you take care of those damned VTOL's? We need to take them out before they flush us out of cover."

Paulson slipped into cover just in time to avoid a hail of lasers heading his way. "Why don't y'all let Garvey here take care of 'em? I'm already busy enough as it is!"

"We can have Preston draw them out since he's in power armor. While he's got one occupied, I want you to stand up and shoot it out of the sky with the missile launcher. Are you both ready?"

The Minuteman passed over his unloaded missile launcher to Paulson, who reluctantly accepted it. "We're good to go, I think."

"Piper and I will keep you covered from infantry fire. Be careful."

Paulson hefted the launcher to rest over his shoulder, and Preston made ready to leave cover and take a few hits for the good of his team. When the latter finally did, he immediately tried to attract the nearest vertibird pilot's attention by shooting at his aircraft with low-cranked shots of his laser musket. And while he did accomplish his main objective of drawing one of the vertibirds to come and attack him, he also attracted unwanted attention from opportunistic Gunner marksmen.

"Shit, they're onto me! I'm taking sniper fire here!" Preston exclaimed, sounding panicked.

"Hold position and brace, soldier!" Kryger commanded. "You've got the VTOL's attention; _don't_ lose it! Paulson, you've only got _one_ shot at this, so make it count!"

The Gunner vertibird in the distance started to spool up the gatling laser mounted on its nose before it advanced up to Preston, obviously intent on making a strafing run on the boat. The Minuteman defiantly stood out of cover, firing uselessly at the approaching aircraft even as it pelted him with heavy laser fire.

"Armor integrity compromised!" Preston cried out after one of his gauntlets got blown off by too much enemy fire.

Kryger dropped down to his knees, scooped up a missile from Preston's munitions pile and loaded it into Paulson's missile launcher. "Do it!"

The ex-rancher grimaced as he stood up, feeling the weight of the loaded weapon clamping down on his shoulder. He peered down the sights for a full second before depressing the trigger, sending the missile flying straight toward the incoming VTOL.

The vertibird pilot never saw it coming. Paulson's missile collided with the aircraft's left tiltrotor wing, causing it to careen forward in a chaotic manner thanks to the forward momentum it already possessed. The doomed VTOL crashed onto the riverbank at the other side of the bridge, where it was promptly consumed in a small nuclear explosion.

"Nice shooting, Sam!" Piper struck the man's shoulder in a playful manner.

"We're not in the clear yet, be ready!" Kryger reminded them. "Preston, I need a health check. Any injuries?"

"I think I can do that again, but not as long! My armor's starting to break!" The Minuteman sounded off from cover.

"Negative, the Gunners won't let us pull that trick again. Contribute fire until—"

"Don't mean to interrupt, but have a look at that!" Paulson alerted his group to the third and last vertibird gunship in the distance. This time, it looked to be in the process of offloading more troops to reinforce the attackers.

After most of its occupants have departed, the vertibird took off into the air again. It swiveled to face the tugboat before suddenly launching a trio of high-velocity rockets against Kryger's squad.

In the face of uncertain doom, Kryger was actually very surprised to see the Gunners try their hand at blowing up the boat at last. He was gravely wrong to think the Gunners valued the suits too much.

He opened his mouth to issue a warning to his squad, but he acted a little bit too late. "Squad! GET OUT OF THE—!"

The moment the first missile struck the _Riptide_ , it blew open the starboard side of the tugboat, exposing its innards and causing the lower decks to quickly flood with water. The second missile hit the barge where the T-51f suits were located, causing it to tilt heavily to its side and knocking most of the containers it was carrying into the river. Finally and most decisively, the third missile flew inside the hole the first one made, colliding with the boat's dormant yet highly explosive nuclear engine.

Kryger last saw himself scrambling to get to the edge of the boat along with the rest of his four-man squad. The next thing he knew, he was in the irradiated water, half-awake and struggling to remain lucid. His laser rifle was nowhere to be found, but most of his equipment seemed to remain strapped to his body.

With his pip-boy's Geiger counter ticking quietly away, the major resolved to make a break for the surface before he ran out of oxygen and lost consciousness again.

With a little bit of effort thanks to his injured leg and his damaged ribcage, Kryger managed to swim to the surface. Once there, he was immediately greeted by the sight of the USS _Riptide's_ burning husk; it was only a matter of time before it was claimed by the river, dragging with it the barge it was tugging along.

"Hey, Kryger!"

The major turned his body aside and found Piper floating at the surface as well.

"Over here!" She shouted to him, waving an arm.

"Where's Preston and Paulson?" Were the first words out of Kryger's mouth after swimming his way to Piper. "Are you alright?"

"I'm f-fine, but I saw Preston get tossed into the water while still inside his armor!" She quickly worded out. Closer inspection of her expressions show signs that she was suffering from shock and the first stages of hypothermia. "N-no sign of Paulson; he might be d-dead for all we know!"

Kryger clenched his teeth, "We'll look for them, but we need to get out of the water first! Come on, let's—"

The shouts and cries of Gunner infantry above them at the bridge forced Kryger to smother the rest of his words. He motioned for Piper to keep quiet and follow behind him as he tried to slowly reach land as quietly as he could.

"It's... g-getting... c-co-old..." The major heard the reporter mutter behind him halfway through to the shore. With little thought, he was quick to turn around and support her by having her hold on to him, letting her weigh him down until they reached land together.

"We're h-here."

Kryger had finished dragging himself and his fireteam comrade to land, with their backs to the ground and clothes drenched in cold, irradiated water. By then, the major's body was completely numb; most of his strength had already fled after all his exertions. Piper, despite losing most of her equipment in the water, was heavier than she looked.

"Ahh... we made it." The major breathed out as he picked himself up to a sitting position. Before long, he was sifting through his belongings inside his drenched field pack. "Hold on, I think I have a Rad-Away around here somewhere. How do you feel?"

"I c-can't feel my fingers." Piper weakly responded. "Am I... am I gonna die?"

Kryger reminded himself to force out a chuckle at that. "No, the radiation we absorbed can't be enough to kill us both, and we didn't stay in the water long enough for hypothermia for anything permanent to take effect. After a while, you should feel fine."

"You should read a d-dictionary, Green." She looked up to him, shivering and smiling wanly. "Look for the letter "S", and f-find the word "sarcasm". It's enlightening, I t-tell you."

Kryger helped her up to sit. "Soldiers don't get paid to read, Ms. Wright."

"Soldiers get paid to kill."

The major reacted very briefly with surprise at the voice behind them. He reached into his coat to take his sidearm, but was stopped dead in his tracks by the cold barrel of a rifle poking at the back of his drenched head.

"Ah-uh. Don't you think you've done a little too much damage, waster?" The man holding him hostage taunted. "Stand up and drop that gun on the ground. _Now_."

Kryger looked to his side and found Piper at a situation similar to him, only instead of being threatened with a gun, she had a pair of hands holding a knife to her throat from behind.

The major reluctantly did as he was told. After disposing of his pistol, he stood up and turned to face his captor: a sunglassed Gunner lieutenant in a suit of mismatched, helmetless power armor, with T-51b arms and legs and a T-60b chestplate. Behind him were the remaining Gunners, numbering at only a little more than a ragged dozen.

"Wise choice." The Gunner lieutenant smirked as he adjusted his shades. "Sergeant Baker, Private Letho, take these wasters to the bridge along with the others. I need answers."

Two Gunners in ratty combat armor and patched fatigues saluted their leader before taking Fireteam Able by the shoulders and hauling them away from the shore, back to Ackerson Bridge. Once there, their spirits were lifted to see Paulson alive and well, despite him being on his knees and surrounded by men holding guns to his head.

"Inspiring, isn't it? Knowing that you three will die together after having fought together." The merc hauling Kryger by the shoulder, Sergeant Baker, taunted. His breath smelled like that of a dog's. "Well, except for Paulson maybe. Captain Wes wants him alive."

The major said nothing, to Baker's obvious disappointment. He made it even more obvious by throwing his captive to the ground with all the strength he could muster, aggravating the previous wounds the latter suffered to his chest. The Gunner sergeant smirked at the suffering he caused before quickly having his lower-ranking colleague, Private Letho, do the same to Piper.

"I don't s'pose ye've got a trick under yer sleeve that could get us outta this mess?" Paulson muttered as Kryger sat up.

"Preston might still be alive..." He responded, unsure. He looked briefly around and caught sight of the vertibird gunship hovering around, scanning for more threats. "...he might come and make a big enough distraction that could—"

"We've got 'nother waster 'ere!" A Gunner shouted as he approached. He was flanking a man drenched in water with a colleague, hauling him around. "That makes four of 'em!"

Kryger sighed as Preston was hurled to the ground next to him. For some inexplicable reason, he managed to hold on to his slouch hat, unlike Paulson and the major himself.

"Sorry, sir." The Minuteman rubbed the back his neck. "They were waiting for me by the shore; took me by surprise when they showed up behind a car."

"You did all you could, Mr. Garvey." Kryger frowned. "We all did."

The four Gunner captives waited a couple more minutes before the Gunner lieutenant arrived. From the swagger in his power armored steps and the smug expression he wore, he was obviously intending to torment his prisoners instead of tying them up or just outright executing them like a smart man would.

"Honestly..." He started, walking up to Preston on his knees. "In all my years, I _never_ expected to see you again, Garvey. _Alive_ , that is. Tell me, whatever happened to those settlers you were protecting? Did that wrinkly, chem-binging fraud's "predictions" fail her at last?"

"Just get it over and done with, Clint." Preston defiantly glared back at the man. "Tie us up or shoot us — either way, I don't speak to turncoat bastards."

The Gunner lieutenant suddenly struck the Minuteman across the face with the back of his metal hand.

"That's _Lieutenant_ Clint to you, Garvey. And you _will_ talk unless you want to make this much longer and more painful than it has to."

Preston said nothing and spat at the man's boots.

"Charming." Lieutenant Clint snarked. He viciously struck Preston across the face yet again before lifting his foot and smashing it into the Minuteman's ribs, knocking him down.

"You could've avoided this area altogether and you'd have spared us and yourselves all this trouble, but you wide-eyed, limp-wristed motherfuckers just _HAD_ to ruin our salvaging operation, didn't you?"

Clint reached down and grabbed hold of Preston's head with both power armored hands. The traitorous Minuteman violently lifted his former comrade back up to his knees and physically forced him to look to the side of the bridge, toward the rapidly-sinking utterly-gutted husk of the USS _Riptide._

"WHY DID YOU DO ALL THIS?!" He practically screamed into the Minuteman's ear. "WHAT. DID YOU STAND. TO _GAIN?_ "

"...you don't deserve th-those suits." Preston spat out blood from his mouth as he talked. "None of you m-murderers do."

"Again with this heroic, idealistic bullshit from the last Minuteman remnant!" Clint removed his metal hands from Preston's head and placed them on the other man's shoulders.

"Don't you see? The Minutemen's methods only solved problems in the short term because you lacked the spine to do something ruthless to get things PROPERLY done! Common wasteland yokels like you and your idiot friends might think we're brutal, but what we Gunners do made us strong and feared throughout the entire goddamn Commonwealth! People fall in line EXACTLY when we tell them to, and those who disobey get their THROATS. FUCKING. _SLIT!_ "

Lieutenant Clint reared back and hurled Preston to the ground once again. He visibly paused for breath before turning and motioning for some of his subordinates to come forward. Kryger's fears were confirmed when he noticed how some of them seemed to be hauling canisters of flamer fuel with them.

"But you don't need to worry about that." Clint drew his laser rifle in unison with his underlings, their weapons pointed at their helpless captives.

Kryger stared down the barrel of a Gunner merc's combat shotgun. Like a good soldier, he intended to meet his end without fear, or regret.

"You won't live to see another day anyhow. Make peace with the Devil, because today, we're sending you to—"

It was brief, yet decisive. Behind Lieutenant Clint and his firing squad, a lance of blue light streaked from the ground and into the air, straight toward the Gunner vertibird hovering in flight. What followed next was a massive, blue and orange explosion that rent the aircraft asunder, scattering charred pieces of all over a large radius.

"What the hell?" Clint, along with most of his underlings, turned around to behold the brilliant ball of light in the air above them. An unwise move.

At that moment, Kryger was filled with the desire to see Shaun again. He didn't want to die, at least not yet.

While his captors were distracted, he looked down and was surprised to see his sheathed sword still clipped to his belt. Why the Gunners never took the time to take it away eluded the major, and frankly, he was too elated to care. They probably thought it was purely ceremonial and hence, harmless.

"Heh, heh." Kryger chuckled nervously. He only had one shot at victory, and one small misstep could mean the anticlimactic end to his journey. With his teeth clenched tightly together, the major silently released the shocksabre from its sheath.

"I want all available personnel over there NOW! Report to the front and engage these new arrivals! Spare no one!" Lieutenant Clint barked to his underlings constantly, ordering them back into action despite their weary, severely battered state. By the end of it, he had ordered twelve out of his fourteen remaining mercs back to the foot of the bridge, to combat the new, unseen threat to their salvaging operations.

After issuing one last command, Clint turned right around to deal with his captives once and for all so he could focus on the more pressing issue alongside his men.

"As for you yokels, time has just run out for—"

Kryger savored that look of pure surprise and horror on the man's face as he swung his blade at his stomach. The crackling edge of the sword cleaved right through Clint's power armor and sliced his belly wide open, causing his entrails to spill out into the ground.

"UuuuaaAAARRRGHH!" Clint let out a pained, long-winded scream as he dropped to the asphalt road in an inelegant heap, clutching at his exposed, severely-burnt innards.

"Holy shit!" Alerted to the scream of his commanding officer, Private Letho turned around and was promptly horrified at the sight that welcomed his eyes. He took too much time gawking to properly defend himself from the major, who made short work of him with a single, overpowering stroke that parted him from shoulder to waist.

Kryger turned to press his attack, but was stopped dead by a bullet that clipped his side, forcing him down on his knees. The Gunner responsible, the one called Sergeant Baker, cycled his carbine — the very same one he confiscated from Paulson.

"You're in a big, fat hurry to die, aren't you!" He took aim at Kryger, but before he could pull the trigger, he was suddenly turned into a pile of ashes by Preston, who had retrieved Lieutenant Clint's laser rifle.

"Thank you." Kryger allowed the Minuteman to help him back to his feet.

"You alright there, Green?" Piper walked up beside Preston, holding a new shotgun she scavenged from one of the dead Gunners.

The major let out a sigh. "Yeah. I'm good to go."

Paulson, reunited with his precious Winchester carbine, ambled up to them. "So am I. Let's get back out there and finish what these boys started, huh?"

* * *

Minutes have passed, and the remaining mercenaries were quickly dispatched by the combined efforts of Kryger's squad and the new arrivals — Codsworth, Dogmeat, Paladin Danse and Senior Scribe Olin. The two groups were united at the foot of the bridge, where it all started.

"Sir!" Codsworth was evidently happy to be reunited with his master. "Thank the stars we've arrived just in time! When I saw the _Riptide_ explode, I feared the worst!"

Kryger smiled as Dogmeat ran past him, into the Paulson's open arms. Looking back to Codsworth, he nodded. "We got lucky that time, and your timing couldn't be any better. It was smart of you to go back and call for the Brotherhood's help."

"It was our duty to help a paragon. Thwarting these opportunistic vultures was just an added bonus." Danse patted the side of the tesla cannon he was holding above his shoulder.

"Gunners don't make for easy prey, especially with vertibirds at their disposal. Once the Brotherhood establishes itself in the Commonwealth, rest assured that our elder will bestow upon these criminals their just rewards for this... blatant misapplication of pre-war technology."

"The Brotherhood _rewards_ criminals now? And I thought you couldn't get any more jerk-ish." Piper just couldn't resist a sarcastic jab at the Brotherhood.

Danse was not amused. "Citizen, such talk will only get you—"

"Paladin," Kryger attempted to defuse the situation by changing the subject. "It might serve the Brotherhood well to know that just below this river—" He indicated at the irradiated waters below the bridge. "—are sunken US Army shipping containers loaded with guns, munitions and even an entire container filled with dozens of T-51f power armor. They're the reason why the Gunners even bothered to come here."

"I see. How did you know of this?"

Kryger grimaced at the unpleasant memory. "We were near the supply barge those containers were on when it was sunk by the same vertibird you took down, along with the _Riptide_."

"The water's fuckin' _cold,_ I tell ya what." Paulson drawled, and Dogmeat barked in seeming agreement.

Preston looked uncomfortable, and Piper visibly shivered. "Ugh, don't remind me. I almost _died_ down there, y'know."

"That wouldn't be so unwelcome." Olin muttered under a breath. "Major Kryger, judging from the events at Cambridge Police Station and today, you will have no shortage of enemies so long as you walk the Commonwealth. Where you go, trouble follows in your wake."

"I... guess?" The major scratched his cheek.

"You guess." The woman nodded. "As Paladin Danse said, it is our duty to help you as a paragon of the Brotherhood. Therefore, I'm stepping forward and offering up my services as an informal, unpaid member of your company, provided of course, if you're willing to have me."

Danse looked surprised. "Senior scribe, this is hardly necessary—"

"Would you rather have the major proceed without the Brotherhood's guidance and supervision then, sir paladin?" Olin curtly brushed him off.

The paladin's neutral expression slowly turned sour. "...No. I do not. But as a scribe, you're hardly suited for the task. That's why I'm offering myself to the major in your stead."

He seemed oblivious to how close Olin looked to snapping at him. "On the other hand, as a paladin, I will be of more use to a man in need of a proper soldier. Your place is with Rhys and Haylen, where you can be safe and secure from the rigors of the wastela—"

"For the last time!" Olin surprised everyone by taking her laser shotgun and pointing it at Danse.

"I do not _need_ protection and security and I will _not_ have people like _you_ telling _me_ where I should and should not be! I am not a lowly apprentice scribe you can order around like a—"

"Olin." Kryger placed a firm hand on her shoulder. Situations like this required as such. "There's no need for that. Let's settle down... and talk like civilized adults, alright?"

The senior scribe quickly realized how morbidly rash she was. Danse was her brother, and he was only concerned for her safety, but she threatened to harm him for it.

"I... yes. Let's." She lowered her gun, holding it to point to the ground.

"Thank you." Kryger retracted his grip. "We can take both of you with us, you know. I'm used to leading large groups of men on the field."

"One of us needs to return to Cambridge, I'm afraid." Danse said. "Someone needs to lead the station — to take charge of it until it is no longer vital to our cause in the Commonwealth."

Kryger thought about what his squad needed the most. "Hm. Do you have any sort of medical or technical training? We've already got plenty of heavy-hitters in the squad, you see."

At this, Danse frowned. "I guess... you'll have need of the senior scribe better than me, then."

"Olin?" The major looked to her. "Can you confirm this?"

She seemed pleased. "Major, while I may not be too versed in the domain of doctors, field surgeons and the like, I can assure you that I'm much better with machinery, robotics and weaponry maintenance. If it shoots, I can make it keep shooting."

Kryger seemed intrigued. "I see. Any other talents?"

"I also have the skills and expertise necessary to hack into terminals you otherwise couldn't access. You'll have much use of me, sir."

Kryger needed no more convincing. "Welcome aboard then, Olin. I hope you'll get along with the rest of the squad."

Paladin Danse looked to the major, a resigned look on his face. "Take care of her, sir. If anything ever happens to the senior scribe, it'll be my own squad's hide on the line."

The paladin quickly exchanged his goodbyes with Olin and Kryger before immediately departing, presumably back to Cambridge station. As Preston, Piper and Codsworth tried their best to welcome the fussy, somewhat arrogant senior scribe into their little group, Paulson took the time to talk to Kryger.

"Looks like y'all are walkin' 'round to Diamond City then, 'cause the bridge really can't be crossed this time."

"Yeah. I guess so." Kryger solemnly nodded, sighing at the now truly impassable Ackerson Bridge. "Still... it worked out for the best at the end, didn't it? If we walked around the bridge at the start, the Gunners would've had a whole cache of T-51 suits to themselves."

"Maybe for you and yer pals, but I might've just done screwed myself over by killing so many of 'em Gunners. Even if I did manage to high-tail it outta the Commonwealth, ain't nowhere in the country's safe now that I've _really_ fuckin' pissed the Gunners off."

Paulson lit up a cigarette and started morosely smoking out of it. "I reckon it's only a matter of time until some snot-nosed punk tryin' to pass hisself as a "bounty hunter" buries all six shots into my back while drunk in a dusty saloon over at New Vegas or somethin'. I only regret that Dogmeat'll have to find a new master once I'm in the dirt."

"You and Dogmeat could always join up with us." Kryger told him. "I could use every pair of hands I could count on, and you're good with a gun."

Paulson scoffed at that. "Sorry, son. But this cowboy prefers workin' small. Two's fine enough by me, but seven's just too damn crowded. I'm not much of a people person, anyhow."

"That's a shame, but I understand." Kryger nodded, turning to look back at the distance. The two of them stood in silence for a while, their memories flashing back to the previous skirmish they fought in.

"...what're you really tryin' to do out here in the Commonwealth, anyway?" Paulson, after some time in silence, was the first to speak up.

"Funny you should ask," Kryger never smoked, but he suddenly felt like asking for one from the other man. "My son was taken from me, after my wife was murdered. I've been trying to bring him back ever since... and settle the score with those responsible."

Paulson seemed surprised at this. "And yer sure he's still alive?"

"No." The other man admitted freely. "But I won't stop until I feel like I've done enough of what any decent father would in my shoes. You can be very sure of _that_ , Mr. Paulson."

Paulson squinted and took an extended drag out of his cigarette. "...ya mean all that, major?"

"I have no other purpose." Kryger was adamant.

"Hmph." Paulson spat out the nearly depleted cigarette. "...I don't s'pose ye've got room in yer crew for one more man and his dog?"

* * *

 _Uwagi autora i Zastrzeżone:_

Paulson's appearance confirms that, yes, the events of Mothership Zeta happened (a few years after Broken Steel's end, at least in this story). This means that there's another displaced US infantryman centuries after the war, an ex-raider in possession of extremely high-value alien tech somewhere in the wastes, and even a 16th century Japanese samurai from the Oda clan running around in post-apocalyptic America.

Also, the Lone Wanderer may or may not have **accidentally** destroyed a huge chunk of Ontario, Canada while testing the alien mothership's death ray.

As for Paulson himself, I picked him for the squad because he shares a disturbing amount of similarities with the 4's protagonist, especially the bits about being frozen and having his wife and son harmed by antagonistic forces while he was rendered powerless to stop this threat against his family. Also, he seems like a perfectly decent character, with lots of potential for interesting backgrounds. An ex-CSA line infantryman, perhaps?

Aaaand, here's the disclaimer:

Bethesda Softworks LLC owns the intellectual rights to the _Fallout_ series. No sue pl0x.


	8. Shelter

**Near Oberland Station, in the night...**

"Good evening."

Paulson's eyes darted up from his roasted squirrel stick. He was enjoying his dinner by the warmth of one of the campfires the group had set up for the night, when he was accosted by those two pesky young'uns who Kryger kept for company — the dark-skinned, obnoxiously mild-mannered Minuteman, and the chatty raven-haired reporter lass from Diamond City.

"Mind if we sit here?" Wright inquired as they approached. By the light of the slow-dancing fire, she looked paler than ever.

"It ain't illegal, kid." The cowboy responded before going about his business. "Knock yerselves out."

"Woof." A relaxing Dogmeat beside him seemed to agree.

"Thanks." Garvey dropped his hat and laser rifle down on the ground and took his place near the fire, just as Wright did.

"So..." Wright spoke up, after a bit of silence from all parties. "...we just realized that we don't know much about you, Sam. What's your story?"

Paulson grumbled. "Ain't nothin' worth tellin'. Why don't you go bother that Olin woman for her life story, or somethin'."

"Eheh," Garvey chuckled nervously. "We'd like to, but... she's kind of a... well,"

"Kind of a bitch." Wright bluntly finished for him. Thankfully, the Brotherhood scribe was far out of earshot in her field tent somewhere, over at the farthest corner of the camp. "Talking to her's no fun, that's for sure. I dunno why the major even bothered taking someone like _her_ along with us."

Paulson sighed, "If I tell ya all about myself, would that get the two of you to leave me be? I'm kinda busy here."

"Oh, we don't mean to impose," Garvey held up a hand in an inoffensive, placating manner. "We just thought it'd make working with you easier if we knew a little more about you, Mr. Paulson."

"Paulson's just fine." The other man offhandedly uttered. "My old war buddies used to call me that... I guess that's what y'all are now, considerin' recent events."

He paused. "Well, not the "old" part, o' course."

"...Old war buddies?" Wright asked again. "No offense, but you don't _look_ like a soldier-type like Kryger. Besides, didn't you say you're some kind of mercenary?"

 _"Bounty hunter_." Paulson tersely corrected, pointing the end of his squirrel stick at her. "Anyway, I _used_ to be a soldier, but my war ended a long time ago. Our side lost and I was discharged, but I couldn't care less. Hated wars in general."

The southern man kept silent for a while. He noticed how Garvey was silently imploring him to continue, and Wright took the next step forward by taking out the dusty notebook she always seemed to carry around by her side.

"...So I settled down for a while — started a family with a woman from further south, Reyna. I gave her a ranch and she gave me a son, my only boy Caleb."

He sighed quietly. "As y'all might have figured, this didn't last. It was Thursday in the middle of harvest season, and my family was workin'. Just... mindin' our own business at our ranch in Potter Field. Everything seemed fine at first, but before we knew it, these... these lily-livered _assholes_ came and abducted us... all of us."

Both Garvey and Wright seemed horrified at the thought, even as the latter continued scribbling on her notebook.

"I watched from the bars of a metal cell as the fuckin' animals murdered my wife. The next day, the cowardly sick fucks did the same to my boy. I dunno why they didn't just kill me and got it over with. They took me prisoner for God knows how long, until this woman from the Brotherhood of Steel broke me out and a few others from that damn prison."

"Someone from the Brotherhood?" Wright tilted her head to the side. "That's strange. I thought those guys only cared about their own."

"Yeah, but it's not like this one's got a choice. She was abducted, too." Paulson said.

"It was four years ago, and I don't remember her name much. She spoke like a know-it-all mick, and went by "Winters", I think. She wasn't much of a fighter, but _damn_ if she didn't prove her worth with that big brain of hers. It was her bright idea that got us out of that prison in the first place."

Garvey visibly sat to attention at the mention of the Brotherhood woman's name. "Winters? Do you mean... Sentinel Elise Winters?"

Paulson cocked a brow and nodded. "...Yeah. Somethin' like that. Ya know her?"

"Almost everyone in the East Coast does." The Minuteman told him. "Rumor has it that Sentinel Winters was the reason why the Brotherhood has so much presence beyond the Capital Wasteland; most of their early successes were attributed to her, _especially_ the war with President Eden's Enclave. Apparently, she killed the president, blew up Raven Rock, led the final charge to the Jefferson Memorial along with Sentinel Lyons, and nearly got killed by an ungodly amount of radiation for it. In the end, it was by her efforts that clean, radiation-free water started to be given freely to the Capital Wasteland's settlements... well, at least at first."

"Huh. If she's so wonderful, how did this Sentinel Winters get abducted by common wasteland assholes in the first place?" Unsurprisingly, Wright seemed skeptical. Paulson heard from Kryger about how she seemed to have an exaggerated distaste for the Brotherhood. "Shouldn't she have... bodyguards or something?"

"It ain't no common bandits I'm yammerin' on about, girl." Paulson threw away his squirrel stick after picking it clean. "Though I don't think you'd even believe me when I tell y'all about what they _really_ were. It's... kinda ridiculous, now that ya got me thinkin' about it."

"Hmm, aliens?" Wright took a wild, sarcastic guess.

Paulson looked like he just had a heart attack. "...yeah. Exactly... aliens."

All three of them sat in silence. As for Dogmeat, he had already fallen asleep.

"Pffft, ah ha ha ha!" The woman suddenly laughed, oblivious to the dirty look Garvey was giving her and the downright angry glare she was getting from Paulson. "You had us all caught up in your story back there, Sam! I actually thought I had some fresh material for my newspap—"

"I ain't fuckin' around, _Wright_." Paulson hissed through his teeth. His voice was barely above a whisper, but both Garvey and Wright were taken aback at how utterly venomous it sounded.

"Those freaks took us from our home and _killed_ my wife and child in cold blood. They were _everything_ to me— I had _nothing_ left to live for after they were murdered. The only thing stopping me from blowing my own brains out with the first gun I picked up in fuckin' _centuries_ is my hatred. Hatred for their kind and everything they ever stood for!"

Paulson bared his teeth in a primal scowl. The dying fire in front of him suddenly flared brightly, as if it was given more fuel to burn.

"They've done incurred my wrath, and then some. I savored every last second spent puttin' down those soulless animals. I smiled and watched as the lights blinked out from those black, beady eyes of theirs. In those few seconds, they learned what it's like to fear a man who had no purpose... nothin' to lose."

The man made a chuckling sound. It sounded terrifying and disconcerting to the ears at the same time, like the laugh of an anguished madman.

"Heh, and some of 'em even had the fuckin' gall to ask for _mercy!_ Ahah, can you believe it? They stripped me of everything, left me to rot for a couple hundred years inside a frozen box, and now they want me to just... stop?"

"Hm hm, heh heh heh. Ha ha hah ha." Garvey and Wright just sat there and stared uncomfortably as Paulson started giggling to himself before finally bursting into roaring, unstable laughter. "He heh, hah ha, hah ha _HAH,_ HA HA HA HAH HA HA _HAH!"_

Paulson's unhinged laughter eventually devolved into quiet sobs. "Heh heh, no amount of beggin' on their part ever saved them from my wrath... I only wish Winters left me more of 'em to maim, to gut, to skin, to _kill!_ They deserve nothing less!"

The campfire abruptly died out at that moment, having finally succumbed to fuel deprivation.

"I'm... sorry?" Wright obviously couldn't figure out what to say.

Paulson didn't blame her. If he hadn't experienced all the things he did on that alien ship and made quite certain that they were indeed real, he'd have thought he was going nuts too. "It's alright."

After collecting his wits, Garvey cleared his throat. "Did you just mention being left to rot in a "frozen box" for centuries?"

"Yeah. I did." Paulson reignited the campfire with a bit of whiskey, some firewood and his zippo lighter. "I was born in 1839, about five centuries ago. Sounds fuckin' crazy, right? Y'all must think I'm some sorta lunatic now."

Garvey sat still, completely shocked out of his mind. Wright, on the other hand, suddenly bolted up to her feet.

"I'm... I'm gonna get Kryger. He needs to hear this." She mumbled before disappearing further into the camp.

"Jesus..." Garvey ran a hand through his cropped hair. "And I thought Kryger was fucking old. You're _way_ older than him and every ghoul alive, that's for sure."

Paulson frowned. "What makes ye say that? Kryger looks only a little older than you young'uns."

"Oho, no. He's a whole lot older than he looks." Garvey said. "Just like you."

"The Polack's nothin' like me." The cowboy scoffed.

"I beg to differ," The Minuteman persisted. "For starters, did you know that the major's over two hundred years old? Hell, the way he managed to end up in this time period's almost a little like yours. Just think of Vault-Tec instead of... aliens."

Paulson scowled. He felt like Garvey was mocking him. "That's a whole loada horseshit, Garvey."

"It's true." Garvey pressed. "He was a pre-war army officer who got his family a spot in Vault 111 just before the bombs fell. They expected shelter, but what they got was a centuries-long stay inside cryochambers. One day, a group of people broke into the Vault and—"

"Killed his wife and took his son. Yeah, he told me." Paulson cut in.

"Exactly." Garvey smiled, nodding. "What're the odds that we'd get two out-of-timers in one place in the span of a few days? You guys _can't_ be very common out here in America, much less the Commonwealth."

"I dunno... maybe it's destiny." Paulson offhandedly guessed. "But whatever, I ain't got time to ponder about it now. I'm beat up, tired, cold and a little irradiated. I'd appreciate some alone time 'fore I sleep for our big day tomorrow."

The Minuteman stood up, taking his hat and rifle with him. "Of course. The major says he already cleared this route on his first trip to Diamond City, so we don't have to worry too much about raiders and wildlife jumping us on the way."

"We'll see when we get there." Paulson crawled into his sleeping bag and turned his back to Garvey. "See ya in the a few hours, kid. Don't let the radscorpions bite."

* * *

 **At another corner of the camp...**

"Aliens." Kryger was sporting a blank, inexpressive face as he uttered the word.

"Yep. Aliens." Piper nodded, as serious as could be.

"Aliens! Hah hah!" Codsworth chuckled. "Hide your cattle! Protect your posteriors! Defend yourselves from the dreaded Plan 9, because _aliens_ have come... from outer space! Oooooooh!"

"I laughed at first just like you did, Codsworth, but then Sam got all angry and crazy, insisting that what he experienced was real." Piper grumbled, crossing her arms. "He was frightening like that."

"And you believed him?" Kryger leaned his weight on a tree. His expression was neutral, neither showing disbelief nor belief.

"I... really don't know if I do, actually." She admitted, shaking her head with a frown.

"He said he was born five centuries ago, in the 1800's. He fought in this big war but then his side lost. He settled down with a family somewhere in the Texas Commonwealth not long after, but then he had to endure having to see them get murdered by aliens after they got abducted. After that, Sam said they threw him inside a box and froze him in time for a few centuries... just like you with Vault-Tec."

"Really now?" Kryger seemed intrigued. "If he was from the Old West and fought in the Civil War for the side that lost — the Confederacy — he'd likely have problems with working alongside Preston. So far, he's had none."

"Perhaps Mr. Paulson is just progressive for his time period, sir?" Codsworth suggested. "It wouldn't be too far-fetched to think that he fought for the Confederates _not_ to defend his right to own slaves, but simply because it was his job, or that he had been ordered to."

"Maybe." Kryger shrugged. "I really hope that's the case, Codsworth. As long as I'm charge, I will not tolerate any sort of discrimination in this company. I've already had enough of that before the war."

He looked to Piper. "Thank you for informing me about Paulson, Ms. Wright. I suggest you get some sleep before we move out again."

"You're welcome!" She nodded, smiling. "See you in the morning, Green. You too, Codsworth."

"Good night, Ms. Piper!" Codsworth gave his farewells as the reporter departed for her spot of the camp.

Kryger wiped his nose. The weather was getting colder and colder. "Back to work, buddy. Sound off if you see anything approaching the camp. I don't want raiders or the local wildlife catching us unprepared, understood?"

"Loud and clear, major!"

He nodded, satisfied. "Stay alert, soldier."

The major spent a little more time looking around the darkened horizon for anything suspicious before leaving Codsworth to his work. He slowly shuffled back into his own tent, his plans for the morning already stirring in his mind.

* * *

 **Very, very early in the morning...**

There were two muffled claps. In the absolute silence of the camp, they were almost like thunderclaps.

"Right, squad, we've rested enough! We're going back on the road!"

Senior Scribe Olin yawned and propped herself up on an elbow. It was Kryger's voice outside her tent.

"Listen up, listen up! Come on, up and at them! I need everyone to form up on me before we pack up and move out!"

The senior scribe dutifully pried herself loose from her sleeping bag, packed up most of her belongings into her bag and left her tent to report to the major. Internally, however, she was hissing and cursing at him; not even the highest-ranking paladins wake at three o'clock in the morning, especially when the conditions outside weren't ideal.

"I'm sorry you all had to wake up this early in the morning," Kryger clasped his hands together as everyone else lurched and stumbled their way to him, sporting a range of expressions varying from mildly irritated to _extremely_ irritated.

"But keep in mind that we're in a race against time here; every minute we spend decreases Mr. Valentine's chances of even making it out of the Triggermen Vault alive." Kryger kept his voice even as he spoke. "We've already been delayed enough as it is after the Gunners denied us access to Ackerson Bridge; let's try not to waste any more time, people."

"So, what's the plan then, sir?" Olin spoke up for the rest of the team.

"Well, for starters, we need to reorganize our fireteams," Kryger replied. "Preston, until we can get you a suitable replacement for the laser musket you've lost, I'm going to need you to spot for Paulson from now on. Dogmeat can come with you and be your rearguard."

"Woof!" Dogmeat clearly approved of that. From the half-smile on his face, Paulson did, too.

Kryger seemed to spend a bit of time deliberating on something before speaking up again. "Olin, Fireteam Charlie has an opening. Until further notice, you're working alongside Codsworth... do you have any objections?"

"I will _not_ take orders from a machine—" Was her immediate response. She immediately regretted it upon remembering just who was she working under.

"That wouldn't be very smart considering this "machine" has survived wandering the wastes for the past two hundred years, clerk." The presumptious, ill-mannered woman in the red coat was quick to retort. Apparently, she was called Piper. "Trust me, he knows more about the Commonwealth than any of us combined."

Olin frowned at her, as a reflexive response. "I beg your pardon, citizen. I was merely stating my desire to take command of the fireteam, and not be subordinate to non-Brotherhood personnel."

Kryger's sentient machine audibly sighed. "You'll get no complaints from me, Madam Olin, I'm not much of a leader-type Mister Handy anyhow. It's best if you take the lead."

"Don't act so servile. I'll have you know that I'm perfectly willing to defer to your _suggestions_ when the situation calls for it, err... Codsworth." The senior scribe added, trying to rectify her mistake. "We're all in this together. There's no point for unnecessary friction in this company."

"I'm glad you're willing to see things the right way, senior scribe." Kryger seemed pleased. "Right, as for everyone else, I need you to take everything you need, douse the fires then report back to me. We're going for a stroll through this country's ruined corpse together! Sounds fun and considerably less dangerous than our usual activities, doesn't it?"

"But, Green..." Piper had dark rings around her eyes. "It's cold and windy, the sun isn't even up yet, we don't have any lights except for that pip-boy and Codsworth's searchlight eye got snapped off back at Cambridge. We'll be stumbling around in the dark like stupid tourists."

"I'm sure a little darkness and some bad weather won't stop us, Ms. Wright. After all, we _are_ wicked smart, aren't we?" Kryger's smirk was faintly visible by the light of the nearby campfires. "Just keep close to my position, and I'll keep everyone on the right path. The pip-boy knows the way. _I_ know the way."

In less than five minutes, Kryger's company of five men plus a robot and a dog gathered their belongings, packed up camp and set off into their path once more. It was dark and very gusty in the Commonwealth at the time, but they navigated through the wasteland environment with little difficulty by keeping a firm and steady pace while following the major's pip-boy light.

"The train tracks are just ahead!" Kryger, with the ends of his coat flailing behind him in the air, stopped and looked behind his shoulder. Despite being directly behind him, Olin noticed how the major's voice was almost drowned out by the increasingly stronger winds.

"Hey, major! I know this place!" Paulson cried out and waved his arms at the back. He was using the upper part of his poncho as an impromptu scarf. "We should find another way! It ain't safe! Bandits camp out here!"

"They're the least of our worries now!" Kryger exclaimed, even as the tempestuous environment seemed determined to push his company back. "Come on, let's follow the tracks! Before this damned weather gets any worse!"

Most of the group followed their foolhardy leader, though some did so reluctantly. All seven of them ran and fought against the wind pushing against their bodies and the dust flying against their eyes, as if imploring them to turn back lest they face a hidden danger. Things continued like this for hours on end; they never did seem to encounter any other living creature. It was only until the third hour of their journey that they ran into other people in the wasteland.

"Careful!" Kryger warned as his group approached the dark, obscured profiles lying on the ground. "Draw weapons, loose formation! Contacts up ahead!"

Indeed, as they neared the "contacts" the major warned them about, the group was beset by enemy projectiles. They expected raiders coming to attack them, but instead, found a massed hive of bloatflies advancing. They were apparently feasting on the half-decomposed bodies of dead raiders on the ground.

Olin, Preston, Kryger and Paulson were the first to return fire, knocking a few of the mutated flies out of the air with combined laser and ballistics fire. The rest of the group soon followed, dropping several of them at a time.

"Codsworth, get up close and use the flamethrower!" The major pointed the tip of his sword at the robot and back toward the bloatfly swarm. "The rest of you, fire and adjust! Wipe them out!"

"Understood, sir!" Codsworth wiped a bit of bloatfly projectile residue staining his central housing before slowly moving in close to the main insect swarm. He ignited his flamer's pilot light before proceeding to set the clustered group of mutant flies alight with an extended swirling burst, sending a lot of them buzzing around randomly in blind panic. With a few more shots in the right place, the swarm was quickly culled, and what few survivors remained have scattered and fled after the deaths of most of their kind.

"Threat neutralized! Returning to formation!" Olin punched out a depleted fusion cell charge from her gun as she rejoined the main group. Now that the fight was over, using them on mere insects seemed like a waste. "I suggest we avoid dead bodies from now on. They do attract all manner of unpleasant scavengers like those... things."

"if you're so squeamish, maybe this outfit just isn't for you, then." Piper chimed in. "I dunno how bad it is in the Capital Wasteland now that you've "cleaned" it, but out here in the Commonwealth, we come across bodies all the time."

"That's not what I meant, citizen..." Olin sighed in exasperation. She quickly then turned her sights to the company leader. "Major, this woman has been constantly giving me dirty looks and unnecessary commentary throughout the entire length of our journey. This is hardly how I expected to be treated in this company, and I demand—"

"Piper, don't antagonize Olin..." Kryger sounded like a weary parent reprimanding a child. "We're all part of a group now, there's no use in making more enemies besides the ones we're already facing out here in the wastes..."

"Gee, thanks for sticking out for the Brotherhood's glorified clerk over here." By the light of Kryger's pip-boy light, Piper was visibly sneering at Olin. "I'm sure the Brotherhood won't ever come down to the Commonwealth, and I'm sure they _won't_ become our enemies later on. They've got "friendly" plastered _all_ _over_ their power armor!"

Kryger frowned. "I wasn't taking anybody's side here, Ms. Wright. I'm—"

"Mock and belittle the Brotherhood as much as you'd care to, citizen." Olin returned Piper's hostile looks and banter with that of her own. "It won't change the fact that we are the best hope this desolated husk of a country has of ever uniting in peace and abomination-free purity! We will restore order, security and civility once more into this world, whether you cooperate with us or not!"

"Alright, that's ENOUGH!" Kryger shouted at both of them. "This isn't the time nor the place for discussions such as this! Need I remind you, we still have a lot of ground to cover, and this damn weather isn't making it any easier for us! Stow it!"

Kryger pushed them aside and pressed on. "Forward march, squad! Column formation, let's go!"

Olin glared at Piper one last time before falling back in line with the rest of the squad. She could already tell that working with the self-proclaimed reporter from Diamond City would serve to test the limits of her patience and mental endurance. The senior scribe only hoped that she'd keep her caustic and backward way of thinking to herself, lest she influence the major with her tainted, wholly untrue view of the Brotherhood.

 _Not if I influence him first, of course,_ Olin nodded to herself. _Yes... perhaps I should._

* * *

 **Hours later...**

"Squad, halt!" Kryger suddenly exclaimed. He slowly turned around to face his tensed-up and grim-faced companions, looking as ready as they'll ever be to spring into combat against an unseen foe on his next word.

"You hear that?" The major asked in a voice loud enough to be heard above the banshee-like screeching of the wind.

"Sounded like a Geiger counter tick," Paulson guessed, holding his carbine to point up at the strangely green-hued skies. "Maybe you just stepped on radioactive shit, or somethin', and that "vault-boy" on yer arm wanted to let ya know."

"Pip-boy," Kryger corrected the other man in a deadpan manner. "There _was_ a tick just then, but it's accompanied by something else. Something deep and loud in the distance."

"Now that you mention it," Codsworth began. "While we were marching back there, my sensors _did_ pick up the faint sound of thun—"

A massive thunderclap in distance drowned out the rest of Codsworth's words. Simultaneously, Kryger's Geiger counter jolted up a few rads.

"Oh, _hell_." Preston slowly put his rifle away as the area around them started to take a sickly yellowish-green tinge, as if rendered through a lens filter. It didn't take long before the first irradiated drops of rain started to fall all around the squad's midst, causing Kryger's Geiger counter to go wild.

Piper covered the top of her head with her hands as the overall conditions gradually worsened with high-speed gusts of wind and hard rain. "This is bad!"

"We need to get out of the open!" Kryger remained calm as everyone else frantically looked around for places to take cover under. He spared a single look into his pip-boy's glowing screen before a plan formulated on his mind.

"Look alive, soldiers!" He motioned for the men to rally to him as he took off in the direction of the west with all deliberate speed. "On me! Let's go!"

"Meatbags..." Codsworth could only mutter as the rest of his company bolted off ahead of him, into the distant fields.

Kryger sprinted through the area between him and his destination. He jumped over fences, ran over plants, barged through doors and navigated the ruins of former houses. Eventually, he reached an irradiated pond in the middle of a disused park. Looking up ahead, he could see a clustered group of abandoned trailers littering the entrance to a cave of some sort. With certainty, he knew the cave must be his destination.

He made to turn around to address his squad behind him, but instead of finding his group, he was given a nasty surprise in the form of a deathclaw shovelling bucketloads of dirt as it loped its way to him on all fours, with obvious predatory intent.

The major only got so far as place his hand on the handle of his sabre before the mutated lizard suddenly stopped half-way, as if stirred by something. It seemed to be staring straight at its would-be prey. Kryger stared right back at it, but he quickly noticed that it wasn't actually looking _at_ him...

It was looking _over_ his shoulder. Something behind him actually made an honest-to-God _deathclaw_ stop on its tracks in fear.

Kryger stood absolutely still, even as the radstorm raged all around him. He concentrated every amount of intelligence and skill he possessed into formulating a plan that could get him out of the hideous, amateurish mess he just put himself into. The deathclaw in front of him seemed content to stay put, but there's no telling what the unknown entity lurking behind him might be planning to carry out.

"Kill it!"

Suddenly, whatever plan Kryger had in mind was immediately torn to shreds as bullets and laser fire split the air, pelting the deathclaw's thick hide. The major prepared for the worst, but was immediately relieved to see the demonic lizard slither off into the distant woods, apparently deciding that its lunch was more trouble than he's worth.

With one front cleared, Kryger whirled around to face the hidden monstrosity behind his back, un-electrified shocksword held up. Instead of finding a grotesque, mutated mass of writhing tentacles, teeth and claws as he had envisioned, he only saw a glimpse of an exceedingly tall, vaguely humanoid figure with horns and a hint of a tail vanishing into thin air, as if it was never there to begin with.

"That was close, major!" Preston said as he ran up to a baffled-looking Kryger with the rest of the squad close behind him. "I think that deathclaw was just fifty yards away from you!"

"There's something else out here." Kryger warned his company. "But let's not stick around to face it. Come on, let's get inside shelter, over there."

Kryger then led his group around the pond and through the park, past the abandoned trailers and through the entrance of the cave he spotted earlier. It was dark, there were skeletonized human remains on the ground and the cold wind still managed to reach up to them there, but at least the irradiated thunder and rain couldn't get to them inside.

"Anyone got any Rad-Aways left?" Kryger asked aloud, after catching his breath. "We must be soaked in rads by now."

"I have four packets, over here." Senior Scribe Olin went down on a knee as she fished out a quartet of caramel-brown Rad-Away packets from her Brotherhood duffel bag.

"Use it, then." The major said. "Should be enough of the stuff for all of you, even the dog."

"Son," Paulson looked to Kryger. "You'd start growin' a second head if you don't get your own rads treated. Get over here and get yer dose of this shit."

"No thanks, dad." The other man deadpanned, shaking his head. "We'll have plenty Rad-Aways for everybody once we scavenge some from this Vault. With luck, there'll be plenty of supplies left behind by the previous occupants for us here."

"Vault?" Piper gave Kryger a peculiar look. "What Vault?"

"This Vault," Kryger indicated further into the cave. "Vault 81. We're standing just beyond its entrance. There's no telling what's waiting for us down there, but let's hope it's safe enough for a bit of scavenging."

"You led us into a Vault?" Olin's voice conveyed her pleasantly surprised demeanor. "I have to say, I like the direction this company is heading, intentionally or otherwise. Much better than rotting in eternal inactivity back at Cambridge."

Codsworth seemed just as excited as the senior scribe, but his emotions were tempered by a wary awareness of his surroundings. "While I appreciate the opportunity to explore another of Vault-Tec's labyrinthine steel honeycombs, more often than not, danger lurks behind a Vault's reinforced titanium door. I advise caution, my friends."

"Indeed," Kryger nodded at the robot. "Well, let's get down there and find out just how much danger we've gotten ourselves into, shall we?"

After using up the last of Olin's Rad-Away supply, the squad followed their leader further and further into the dark underground cavern. Soon enough, they managed to reach an area of the man-made tunnel filled with active lighting and suspended blue and yellow steel platforms complete with safety railings. Just a few steps into the platform revealed the gear-shaped profile of the Vault 81 door, and at the very end of the platform was the console for accessing the Vault door controls.

Kryger walked up next to the console. Curiously, it wasn't as dusty as how he imagined it. In fact, the keys, dials and buttons looked like they were just used recently.

"Make ready, squad." Kryger pulled out the adapter plug from underneath his pip-boy. "If a swarm of feral ghouls came running out the Vault door the moment it slid off to the side... well, you get what I mean."

With little further ado, the major attached the plug to the entrance port on the console, flipped the red coupler ignition button's glass cap open and pressed it, expecting the Vault door to quickly give way.

"Hey, hey! Hold it right there!" A man's voice coming from the console was heard, thoroughly surprising most of the squad. "Vault 81 security!"

"There's... there's people still living behind that door!" Olin's astonishment was palpable. "Tremendous... how could this be?"

Kryger could only stand and give the talking console a blank, stupefied look.

"I dunno how you got your hands on a working pip-boy, but you better start talking, outsider!" The unseen Vault security officer continued.

"I... uh," Kryger cleared his throat and reformed his wits. "I'm from Vault 111. It was issued to me."

"Vault 111?" The officer could be practically heard scratching his head. "Never heard of _that_ one before. And just what sort of business are you looking to take care of down here in 81, mister..."

"Major Kryger, United States Armed Forces." The major introduced himself, as usual. "Tell me, officer, does your Vault have a doctor my company could take advantage of?"

"Um, we do have Doc Forsythe down at the medbay in the lower levels..." The officer, caught off-guard, instinctively replied. "United States Armed Forces? Aren't you guys like, dead since the bombs fell?"

"Didn't take." Kryger deadpanned, "Look, we're cold, beaten and soaked chest-deep in radioactive shit from that damn lightning storm outside. I can pay good money if you let us—"

"Who is it, Officer Edwards?" Another voice was heard, from a woman this time.

Some shuffling was heard. "Ma'am, it looks like another group of wanderers from the Commonwealth. Said they were fleeing from an ongoing radstorm and needed medical attention."

"Well, you remember my policy, don't you?" The woman asked the officer. "If someone from the outside wants in, they can earn it like everyone else. Let me speak to them."

More shuffling was heard, like someone's weight being lifted off a swiveling chair, only to be replaced with another.

"Sorry about that, outsider, Officer Edwards was only doing his duties. I'm sure you understand the Vault's need for caution." The woman said, to Kryger this time. "For newcomers, we like to operate an exchange. For three fusion cores, we can grant you permanent access to the Vault."

Kryger looked behind his shoulder and made a cutting signal with an open palm and his throat to his team. There were no fusion cores left ever since Preston used the last one up on the T-51f suit he commandeered.

"Madam," Kryger turned back to the console. "I won't lie to you; we've all but ran out of fusion cores, and we are in no position to scavenge more — a giant radiation storm outside won't make it easy, nor safe for us. My company has suffered many injuries during our travels, and if we're not given due medical attention soon, we'll have to endure the effects of lingering radiation poisoning on top of all that."

"We're not here to cause trouble, but we need your help. For the sake of a battered and weary group of poor travelers, please let us through." The major tried to make his voice sound as pitiful as he could make it without sounding too wretched and desperate, like a penniless college student trying to hitch a ride.

"Well... when you put it that way, I... don't have the heart to turn you away." The woman responded, apparently relenting. "Welcome aboard the 81, outsider. Doctor Forsythe could be found just a few floors down."

As the Vault door alarms sounded off to signal its opening, Kryger turned around, looking as smug as could be with the impressed faces his team was giving him. Kathérine always said his skill with his tongue was superb — almost as much as his skill with his gun.

"Don't say anything," Piper whispered, to the rest of the team. "He wants his ego stroked, I can see it on his face."

"Why don't _you_ stroke his ego?" Paulson drawled. "Ya seem to hold a torch for him, anyways."

"Whoa, now!" Piper turned and glared at Paulson in response. "I most certainly do not! Sure, we're on the same fireteam, but—"

"Hey!" Preston called out, waving his arm. Like Kryger, Codsworth and Olin, he was already standing near the open Vault entrance, waiting for the rest of the squad to come down.

"The Vault dwellers are closing the door behind us! Hurry it up over there!"

* * *

Kryger felt a rush of memories overcome him as he took the first step inside Vault 81. For a while, the walls seemed sterile and less bright, and the air around him felt cold, almost like Alaska. He remembered his less-than-ideal welcome into the post-apocalyptic future of America.

"Come on, Gwen, my guys have been working doubles for weeks now. They need a break!"

A vault dweller in a technician's jumpsuit interrupted his thoughts. He and another dweller were standing at a far corner of the Vault entrance, conversing about something.

"Everyone's working hard right now, Cal. You think I don't know that?" The other dweller — the exact same woman in the comms, judging from her voice — evenly replied. "Just do the best with what you can, that's all I'm asking."

The first dweller sighed. "Ugh, fine. I'll see what I can do, but you and I both know we can't keep going on like this. It won't be good for us, or the entire Vault."

The man turned around and walked away, just as the woman set her sights to Kryger and his company.

"Sorry about that, outsider. As you'll soon see, we have a few maintenance projects underway." She said. Kryger could already see the stressed look in her eyes that she did well to hide from inexperienced eyes.

"It's fine, we don't plan on staying for long." The major replied, nodding. "May I have a name?"

"Overseer Gwen McNamara, at your service." The woman introduced herself. "Again, welcome to Vault 81. I'm told by Officer Edwards here that you go by the name of Kryger, and that you seem to have connections with the pre-war military."

"You could say that." Kryger shrugged. He then took a step to the side and gestured at his erstwhile companions. "These are my people: Preston Garvey from the Commonwealth Minutemen, Piper Wright from Diamond City, Samuel Paulson and his dog, Senior Scribe Olin from the Brotherhood of Steel, and my Mister Handy, Codsworth."

McNamara spent a few seconds studying each of them. By the end, she seemed impressed. "Quite the... diverse... group you've gathered here, Major Kryger. While my security staff disapproved of letting so many people into the Vault at once, I'll allow it this time. If you've lived this long in the Commonwealth, I'm sure you've chosen your friends wisely."

"I wouldn't say that..." Piper muttered.

"I heard that, citizen." Olin was quick to say.

"Thank you for everything, overseer." Kryger shook hands with McNamara. "We'll be in and out of the Vault before you know it."

"I'm sure there's no need for such haste, major." McNamara offered an earnest smile. "Settle down. Take advantage of our other services and make yourselves useful, if you wish. If you're willing to help us, then we'll be just as willing to help you, outsider."

She turned around. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. I'll be in my office if you have need of me. Until next time."

As the overseer departed, Officer Edwards ambled up to take her place.

"I've got two words I'd like to expect out of you lot: best behavior." He said, firmly. "But do enjoy your stay, no matter how short you seem to think it is. Would you like an escort to the medbay?"

Kryger shook his head. "No, I'm sure we'll be fine. Thanks for the offer, officer."

"It's my job." Edwards nodded and turned to walk off. "Stay on our good side, outsider."

"Right," Kryger motioned for the squad to gather around. "Preston, Piper, Paulson, you _definitely_ need to come with me to see the doctor. Take Dogmeat too, while you're at it. Olin, how are you feeling?"

"I feel fine enough, I suppose. No major injuries or significant radiation poisoning thus far." She answered rather clinically.

"Then you're free to do as you please while in the Vault. Your fireteam partner can go with you, since last I've heard, robots are unaffected by radiation."

"Yes, that's what they all say. The next thing everyone knows, BAM! Ghoulified Mister Handy, huh hah!" Codsworth laughed.

Olin sighed, "Let's just go, robot. Time to find out if they've got a decent cutter around here, I think I need a trim..."

"D'ya think them dwellers have some kinda pub down here?" Paulson asked, just as Fireteam Charlie departed out of sight. "I mean, having yer whole life revolvin' 'round maintainin' these steel corridors must get depressing sometimes."

"In this time period, cowboy, having to worry about things like a leaky steam pipe or a small corridor fire is an improvement to having to worry about your own survival all the time." Piper told the man. "These people don't have to deal with things like starvation, dehydration or the local wildlife coming to brutally maul you to death, and they're happy for it."

"How could you know that?" It was Preston's turn to ask. "We haven't even been to the Vault proper."

"Just an educated assumption by an intelligent, highly perceptive woman from the wastes, Mr. Garvey." Piper smirked as Preston scoffed and Paulson shook his head at her.

"You forgot "humble" and "soft-spoken", Ms. Wright." Kryger added, in a jest. "File in, folks." He indicated at the open elevator in front of them.

The five of them spent the ride down in uncomfortable positions. The elevator had very little space, forcing them to huddle together just to fit inside what little space the elevator provided.

"Guys, I think Dogmeat just took a leak..." Preston said.

"Nice work, pardner." Paulson drawled.

"Bark, bark!" Dogmeat seemed pleased.

"Paulson, this mess isn't gonna clean itself..." Kryger was quick to say.

"Yeah... and clean our boots too, while you're at it! The dwellers won't like us tracking Dogmeat's fluids through the corridors!" Piper chuckled.

Paulson grumbled inaudibly as he got down on his haunches and took out a rag from one of his side holsters. He looked like he was just about to clean up after Dogmeat, when he stopped to look up at Preston, grinning behind his mustache.

"Garvey, you're a good man, ain't ya? Wanna come down here and help out a poor man cleaning up after his dog?"

"...s-sure thing." Preston agreed to help, but the hesitance in his voice betrayed his reluctance.

 _Ding!_

After another minute spent descending, the elevator doors slid off to the side with little fanfare. The squad was welcomed by the sight of an unusually spacious open area inside the Vault, not unlike a small community center from before the war.

"Jus' how big are these damn Vaults, anyway?" Paulson grumbled, taking in the sights of dozens of dwellers going about their business on the floor. "Haven't seen so many clean folks in one place since our last visit to San Antonio. And that's five hundred years ago."

"Each Vault is designed to hold a thousand people at any given time, and the biggest Vaults can have as many floors as a hundred and eight." Kryger said. At that time, some of the dwellers have noticed their presence. "Well, at least that's what my mother used to tell me whenever she took me to work."

"I wonder what kind of power source are the dwellers using." Preston inquired out loud. "From the looks of it, the amount of juice needed to power all this up must be staggering."

"It depends on each Vault," Kryger crossed his arms. "Some of the records I've read say most rely on electricity with a bit of nuclear energy on the side, some rely on geothermal means, and one in California was deliberately supplied an inefficient nuclear reactor, not enough to provide for a thousand people."

Piper poked at Kryger's shoulder and whispered, "Hey, Green, not to be rude, but there's a little—"

"Wow. For someone from the Commonwealth, you sure do know a lot about Vaults, mister." One of the dwellers, no more than a pre-teen boy, spoke up. "Where'd you learn all that?"

"Oh. Hello." Kryger went down on a knee, to level with the child. "My mother used to... research... about Vault-Tec and the Vaults. She told me a lot of useful things about your home, and what usually happens inside."

"She sounds like a smart woman. What's her name?"

A mournful frown crossed the major's face for a split second. "...Mirosława. What about you, kid? Do you have a name?"

"My name's Austin!" The boy grinned. "Austin Engill!"

Kryger nodded, smiling wanly. "A good day to you, little Austin. You can call me Jimmy. Over there's Preston, Piper and Paulson; they're my friends."

"Hey there." Preston tipped his slouch hat.

"Afternoon, kid." Paulson, having lost his hat in the river, resorted to just forcing a smile out.

"Hello, Austin!" Piper beamed as she joined Kryger, going down on both knees.

"You seem nice for outsiders. I think you guys are cool, despite what some of the adults say." Austin admitted. "I can give you a tour of the Vault if you want, Mister Jimmy. Normally I'd charge ya, but I'm feeling pretty generous today."

Kryger looked to his company for their input. Preston seemed alright about Austin's proposition, Paulson looked bored and completely apathetic, and Piper zapped him with a miffed look for even hesitating to take the child's offer.

"Alright, then." The major stood up. "Lead the way. We'll follow."

"Yes!" Austin pumped his fist. "I'll have to introduce you to Erin. She's gonna flip! Follow me!"

The squad of five wasted no time following after the diminutive dweller around that particular Vault 81 floor. Austin led Kryger and his group to the floor's main rooms, which included the local supply depot, the overseer's office, the diner, the classrooms, and finally, Dr. Forsythe's office and clinic. Once there, Kryger chose to cut the tour short.

"Alright, Austin, you've been very helpful, but the clinic is our stop." The major said. He reached into his coat pocket and fished out a handful of caps. "Here's something for your time. Run along now, kid."

"Oh, wow." Austin grinned as he accepted the cash, having immediately forgotten that his tour was supposed to be free. "Twenty-seven caps! I never had so much money at once! Thanks, Mister Jimmy!"

"It's nothing." Kryger nodded as the child scampered off, likely to spend his caps at the Summersets. Turning back to his squad, he said, "I feel like I'm about to grow something redundant. Let's head on inside."

"The kid mentioned they're sellin' whiskey at the diner," Paulson uttered. "Mind if I..."

"No, Paulson." Kryger shook his head. "Unless you've managed to find a way to cure rads with alcohol, I won't let you leave."

"Afraid of needles, old man?" Preston elbowed the other man.

Paulson elbowed back, frowning. "Cheeky bastard."

Inside the clinic, the squad was welcomed by a tall, elderly dweller in a white labcoat. "Welcome, welcome! You must be those Commonwealth visitors I've been hearing so much about."

"Five out of seven of those visitors, yes." Kryger nodded and greeted the man with a neutral smile. "And you must be Dr. Forsythe."

"Guilty as charged." The dweller inclined his head a bit. "I say, whatever happened to those two friends of yours? Are they still inside the Vault?"

Preston shrugged. "Well, one's getting a haircut with that Horatio fellow, and the other won't have any uses for doctors— he's a robot, you see."

"Ah," Dr. Forsythe pursed his lips. "I see. Well, I hope I'm not being a bit presumptuous, but I'd like to ask the five of you a favor."

The doctor knelt down and patted Dogmeat's head. "And yes, this includes your little furry companion here. Beautiful dog, I must say."

Dogmeat tilted his head to the side and whined inquisitively.

"That depends on the favor, doctor." Kryger said. "What do you need?"

"Oh, it's not very taxing or difficult, I assure you." Forsythe stood up and turned his back to the team. "All I need for you is to sit down, really. Would you mind donating some medical samples... even just a blood sample?"

"What for, doc?" Piper asked, folding her arms across her chest. "What do you need these samples for?"

Forsythe walked up to a medical tray and held up a syringe. "It's for my research, young lady. The people of the Commonwealth have been genetically isolated for many generations, and I'm trying to determine what the genetic variation is between the two populations. And as for your dog, my protégés down at the bioscience lab in the lower levels have been requesting samples from various animals in the Commonwealth, such as mole rats, radstags and canines."

The doctor looked back to his guests. "From all five of you, I'll be needing a vial of blood, and perhaps a bit of hair and biological matter such as saliva, urine and fecal m—"

"Eww..." The woman scowled in disgust.

"Look, doctor, we're in a hurry here." Kryger pinched the bridge of his nose. "We came down to your clinic to buy some medical supplies and get our bodies cleaned of any rads before heading back on our way. I don't think we'll have enough time to donate blood — and we're certainly not going to wait around for you to collect our... waste."

"What's the hurry, outsider?" Forsythe didn't seem the least bit disappointed at the major's negative answer. "Dr. Penske says the radstorm over at the surface won't let up at least until another twenty six hours. Unless you're willing to brave the radioactive lightning storms up there, I'm afraid you won't be going out of the Vault any time soon."

Kryger was very disheartened by the news. "Does the depot sell hazmat suits? How about Rad-X, can we outrun the storm on those?"

"No, Mr. Calvin's workers are keeping what little hazmat and radiation suits the Vault came equipped with to themselves, and no, our Geiger counters topside tell us that you'll have less than sixteen minutes of life before succumbing to death by irradiation even while under the effects of Rad-X... and that's if you're lucky enough to avoid ghoulification." Forsythe said, calmly and matter-of-factly. "Twenty six hours is hardly a large amount of time, Major Kryger. The Vault offers many comforts while you wait for the storm to pass."

The major sighed harshly. "...just a blood sample. That's enough."

"That's just what I was hoping to acquire, sir." The doctor smiled. "What about your friends? I'd very much like to take a blood sample from them."

Preston shrugged and moved up next to Kryger.

"Eh, why not." Piper followed after Preston.

"I'll pass." Paulson waved a dismissive hand and turned his back to them. "Dogmeat, whaddaya think?"

"Woof." Uncharacteristically, Dogmeat decided to get his blood sample taken with the rest of the team.

Forsythe nodded in appreciation. "Excellent choice. Let's all take a seat, and I'll draw a bit of blood from each of you in a second."

* * *

After having their blood samples taken, their bodies purged clean of any radiation and their medical supplies restocked, Kryger and his squad decided to head down to the Sunshine Diner, mostly to catch up on their lunch and redraw their plans for the day, but also partly to indulge Paulson's alcohol addiction.

"You really must be scared of needles, are you, Paulson?" Preston teased the older man.

"Go be an obnoxious ass somewhere else, Garvey." Paulson took a sip out of his whiskey. "I'm here to relax, not put up with yer damnable chatter."

Piper wiped her mouth after taking a bite out of her sweetroll. "Yeah, remember when we injected him with our last stimpak while unconscious yesterday? He was out cold, but he _still_ screamed like a little girl!"

Paulson grumbled inaudibly. He looked to the major. "Kryger, amigo, can you get these two kids to piss right off? They're annoyin' me."

Kryger ignored him and continued monotonously chewing at his brahmin steak; the foul circumstances have done much to dampen his spirits. He reminded himself to double the squad's pace once they managed to get back on the road — Detective Valentine's life, as well as Shaun's, depended on how fast he acted... or at least, that's what he conditioned his mind to believe.

"Looking utterly miserable there, Green." Piper tried to catch the major's attention. "Being stuck inside a Vault isn't too bad. We get to experience _not_ being in danger all the time for once, _and_ we can have what we want handed to us on a silver platter. Well, until we run out of caps, that is."

"Maybe for us," Kryger speared a piece of steak with his fork. "But what about Detective Valentine? What about my son? Just how well do you _think_ they're doing while we sit here doing nothing, Piper?"

The reporter was utterly blindsided at how furious the major sounded. "I... uh."

"Ease off, Kryger." Preston cut in with a firm voice and a steely expression. "There's no use getting all worked up about our situation and taking your anger out on your friends. You, of all people, should already know this _."_

Kryger looked away and ate in silence. He was too proud to vocally admit that the Minuteman was right — he let his resentment influence his mind.

"Ya know, Garvey," Paulson drawled, after taking a long swig out of his bottle. "Ye're too young to know what it's like to lose someone _real_ goddamn close to ya — not like those war buddies and passin' acquaintances you lost at Quincy. I'm willin' to bet that ye'd be just as fuckin' antsy as the major here if ye're put in his shoes..."

Paulson closed his eyes and took another swig. When he put the bottle down and opened his eyes, he had that exact same look he sported the night before. He looked utterly spent and broken, like a man who had given up long ago. "I know I was."

The major sighed. "No. Preston's right. I really do want my son back, but I... wasn't thinking clearly. I'm sorry, Ms. Wright."

"It's really fine, Green, I understand what you're going through." Piper waved it off rather nonchalantly. "No harm done. Why don't we just forget about all this and, you know, enjoy this spare time we have on our hands? I mean, it can't be every day we get to sit on a table together and do nothing."

"I like the sound of that." Preston smiled, nodding. "Here's to doing nothing, then?"

"Here's to nothin', eh." Paulson toasted his drink in the air and finished the rest of it off.

"But I hate doing nothing." Kryger grumbled, setting his knife and fork down.

"Then let's go do _something_ , then!" Piper grinned. "Let's take a walk around the entire Vault! It's a pretty big place with lots of floors and interesting stuff, right? Can you imagine it — a whole new world of featureless steel corridors, aging infrastructure and rusty machinery just for us to discover!"

Kryger saw right through her. "You just want more fresh material to write in your paper, don't you?"

"I'll have you know a reporter's work is never done, Major Kryger." She admitted her guilt with grace, accentuated by a mischievous wink. "Come on boys, let's get up and see the _real_ Vault 81 for ourselves. It'll be fun!"

Preston shrugged and stood up. "Why not — there's nothing else I'd rather do, anyway. Are you coming, major?"

"Hmh, fine." Kryger disposed of his half-finished plate and stood up, looking quite resigned to his situation. "Paulson, you need to come with us and stop drinking. I need you in top shape at all times — I don't want you telling me you suddenly came up with a nasty hangover in the morning."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm comin'." With no small amount of hesitation, Paulson left his seat and walked after the rest of his squad. "Where'd y'all wanna go, anyway? The dweller kid didn't exactly give us a thorough tour o' the Vault."

"You can thank Kryger for that." Piper muttered. "Austin did mention something about an afternoon class for Vault kids like him at some point today. Maybe we can stop by there and see what constitutes for education around here. Any objections?"

The reporter was pleased to see no raised hands. "Then let's head there now. I bet they're—"

"Major Kryger," Senior Scribe Olin rounded a corner, surprising the squad with her sudden appearance. "I ran some diagnostics on the weather conditions at the surface with Dr. Penske — one of the local scientists. According to our results, the radstorm outside won't be letting up until the next day. I'm sorry, but it appears we're stuck down here for now."

"Dr. Forsythe already told us about this." Kryger told her. "Since we couldn't do a thing about it, we might as well settle down for a while. If Valentine's lived this far, another day in the Triggermen's custody should do him no harm. I hope."

"As you say." Olin nodded. "What do you intend to do until this damnable weather clears up?"

"We're... we're going to tour the Vault." Kryger admitted, somewhat reluctantly. "It's not like we have anything better to do, and by the looks of things... you don't either. Perhaps you'd care to join us, scribe?"

Olin never needed convincing, however. "Well, I believe I have a duty to examine the Vault's infrastructure. I request that we stop by some of the rooms we come across; my observations into Vault 81's tech could prove useful to the Brotherhood's cause."

"I'll take that as a yes..." Kryger slowly nodded. "Let's get going, then."

"Cute haircut, by the way." Piper, in a manner that was surprisingly out-of-character, seemed to compliment the Brotherhood scribe.

Olin's hair — which used to be worn as a single, large braid — was now much shorter, resembling a rather utilitarian bob-cut. Indeed, it did a good job of making her hair a lot more practical for wasteland travel while still making her recognizable as a woman, and an attractive one at that.

"Oh, please." The scribe crossed her arms and glared at the reporter. "Your irritating penchant for expressing petty contempt for me with sarcasm and caustic remarks does you no credit, and I've just about run out of patience for it. If you've anything unpleasant to say about me, Reporter Wright, please keep your unwanted thoughts to yourself."

"Um," Piper looked genuinely confused. "I... really do think your hair looks good. No need to snipe at me for it, jeez."

"What?" Olin's cheeks flushed a bit, embarrassed. "Oh. Well, uh, thank you. Your thoughts are... erm, appreciated. I guess _._ "

"Ehem," Kryger cleared his throat loudly. As the two women's attention fell to him, he made sure they saw the suggestive smirk he was sporting. "So nice to see the two of you _finally_ getting along. Keep this up, and you _might_ even end up as friends... and maybe even more than that. Off to the classrooms, then?"

"Urgh, let's just go!" Olin took the major by the shoulder, and with surprising strength, physically forced him onward, muttering protests all the way. The others shared collective looks of bemusement and confusion before stepping off, following them.

* * *

After spending the afternoon and a solid chunk of the evening going around the Vault's floors, examining its aging interiors and interacting with the dwellers living in it, the major's company was assigned their own living quarters for the night by the overseer herself. As expected, the conditions were cramped, the air was stuffy and privacy hardly existed, but it was leagues better than getting some rest out in the wastes, partially exposed to the elements and in constant fear of raider or super mutant ambushes.

Everyone slept soundly, despite having to put up with sharing their living quarters with some of the dwellers. A few hours into their rest, however, they were rudely interrupted by a loud clank from the sliding door.

"Ow!" A muffled voice was heard outside. "Ooh, I sometimes forget these blasted doors don't open on their own! Urgh!"

Kryger shook off his sleep-addled mind, and out of sheer habit, kept his hand hovering just above the new laser pistol he purchased from the Vault armory. From his bunk, he watched from the shadows as the door slid above, revealing a very fidgety Codsworth.

"Sir...? Sir, are you here?! The overseer told me you'd be here!" He surged into the living quarters, causing some of the sleeping dwellers to stir. Noticeably, his damaged eye was right back where it was snapped off, fully repaired and only slightly miscolored. "Something terrible has happened, and we need your help!"

"Shhh, Codsworth!" The major climbed down from his bunk and scurried over to the Mister Handy. "People are trying to sleep! Where the hell have you been? What's going on?"

"Sorry!" The robot lowered the volume of his voice and tried to make less noise from then on. "I stayed with Dr. Penske at the hydroponics section of the Vault after Madam Olin and I parted ways. I kept myself busy helping the doctor with trimming the mutfruit bushes, when all of the sudden, Master Engill surprised us with his presence. He was spouting delirious gibberish while profusely bleeding from a positively _ghastly_ bite wound on his arm! And before we could even reach him, he collapsed on the floor — terribly sick and perhaps even _dying_ from an unknown disease!"

Codsworth's grave announcement did a good job at jolting most of the half-asleep occupants of the room into full consciousness. Among them were Preston, Dogmeat and Piper.

"Austin Engill's dying?" A dweller picked herself up from her bunk, scratching her head in a mix of confusion and disbelief. "What the heck's going on up at hydroponics, robot? I demand an explanation!"

"How did this happen?" Another asked, looking on the verge of panicking. "What bit him? How did it even get inside the damn Vault?! We could be next, for all we know!"

"Forsythe and Penske must be working their asses off trying to find a cure." A third one said, morosely. "First his parents get taken from him, and now this. I pity the poor kid."

"Green!" Piper was already at Kryger's side, tugging at his shoulder. "We need to go down to Dr. Penske's lab and help however we can! We can't just... let Austin die!"

"I agree. Our presence might be needed there." Preston nodded, concurring.

Kryger grimaced. "Not one of us had any extensive medical training in the past. I don't know if we could even help out in any positive way."

"We have to try!" Piper insisted. "Please, we need to do this!"

"If I may say so myself, this is a good opportunity to earn the dwellers' trust and goodwill, sir. It'd be wise to assist Dr. Penske with whatever we can muster, no matter how small." Olin suggested in a hushed tone, so as to not be heard by the dwellers in the squad's midst.

"Yeah, exactly!" Piper quickly nodded her agreement. "Come on, Green, everyone wants to help! I know Sam doesn't count because he's still out cold!"

"Help out with what?" Paulson suddenly appeared to Piper's bafflement. The cowboy was already geared up in his usual field attire. "Lemme guess... y'all have problems with diseased critters runnin' around?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Kryger grumbled, frowning.

Paulson scoffed. "Pfeh. Figures that nowhere's really safe in this godforsaken world. What would ya have us do, then?"

"Take whatever you need here and come meet us at the clinic, Paulson. Take Codsworth and Dogmeat with you." The major ordered, after a moment spent thinking. "As for the rest of you, gear up. We move out in five."

A full ten minutes later, the squad regrouped with Paulson, his dog and Codsworth at Dr. Forsythe's clinic. They stepped inside just in time to see the latter engaged in the middle of a rather a heated discussion with Dr. Penske, along with another, unusually gaunt-looking dweller Kryger couldn't recognize.

"You have to do _something,_ Jacob!" Penske pleaded to her colleague. From the lines under her eyes and her slumped shoulders, it was clear that she tried almost everything to no avail, and was already past the point of desperation.

"I'm running the tests as fast as I can, Priscilla." Forsythe looked a little less tired, but he was clearly severely fatigued. "I can't treat Austin until I know just _what_ he is infected with. It's not that simple!"

"Dr. Forsythe—" The third, unknown dweller tried to cut in.

"Not now, Bobby!" Penske abruptly swatted him aside with a dismissive hand. It was then that she noticed Kryger and his group. "And you, outsider, will just have to wait your turn; we have an emergency here!"

Kryger nodded. "Take all the time you need, doctor."

Setting her weary sights back to Forsythe, the biologist returned to pleading. "Austin got bitten by a damn mole rat— isn't that enough, Jacob? There can't be _that_ many mole rat diseases or toxins!"

"Rachel is already examining the mole rat, Priscilla. With our hopes and a little bit of luck, she'll find something of use to us." Forsythe tried his best to calm her down. "But do know that these aren't ordinary mole rats. Who knows what kind of diseases these dirty bastards are capable of transmitting? And what's worse, since Austin's a child, the disease is affecting him more adversely than it would an adult."

Bobby took Forsythe by the shoulder with a fidgety hand. "Dr. Forsythe, please! I think I found something that might help Austin!"

"Bobby—!" Penske tried to interrupt, but was halted by Forsythe's raised palm.

"Hold on, Priscilla. What is it, Mr. de Luca?"

The scrawny dweller retracted his hand from the man's shoulder. "You know that door Austin found? Well, he found it 'cause of me."

He seemed to hesitate for a bit before proceeding. "...I keep my... private things... in there. He saw me getting them."

Penske scoffed angrily. "You mean your _chems_ _!"_

A brief look of disappointment crossed Forsythe's tired features. "Get to the point, Mr. de Luca. What did you find in that place?"

Bobby took it all in stride. "It's like a whole new Vault in there — only half-ruined and caved in. There was this terminal there, so I started poking around it."

He grimaced. "There were some notes and stuff about using mole rats to grow viruses, but they also said that they'd also use them to make vaccines and treatments. Maybe we'll find a cure for Austin there?"

Forsythe ran a hand through his hair. "A secret Vault? Oh, good lord Jesus, I've never heard of such a thing!"

"Bobby, you're a genius!" Unexpectedly, Penske enveloped the significantly emaciated dweller in a hug. "A junkie genius!"

"Erm, thanks." Bobby scratched the back of his head as Penske released him. "Should I call security? I'm sure Officer Edwards can spare a few dudes to go down there and—"

"There's no need for that, sir." Kryger walked up to them, his squad close in tow. "Doctors, I've been informed of the situation by Codsworth here. If Mr. de Luca could show us the entrance to this secret section of the Vault, we might be able to procure something we can give to Austin down there."

Penske beamed. Some of her tired features seemed to melt away at that moment. "You'll be doing the entire Vault a favor — maybe even save my boy's life! Thank you, Codsworth, for informing your master!"

"I can't just stand and let poor Master Engill suffer, Madam Penske." Codsworth said. "Rest assured, we'll find something resembling a cure in a few hours!"

"You're alright in my book, major. All of you are." Forsythe gave Kryger and his squad a firm nod. "Mr. de Luca, can you show our brave guests the way to this... secret Vault?"

Bobby didn't hesitate this time. "Follow me, sir! It's just a few corridors from here!"

The Commonwealth group said nothing as they ran after the man outside the clinic and throughout the floor. For such an unhealthy-looking dweller, Bobby was definitely quick on his feet.

"Alright, this way!" Bobby pointed at the door leading to a room labeled "REACTOR" as he ran. He led Kryger's company down a flight of stairs and into the messiest room the major had ever seen in the Vault. The floor was missing a few panels, wires, cables and vacuum tubes were strewn all around, and the walls were rusting. The only occupant in the room was a Mister Handy in an alarming state of disrepair.

"Mr. de Luca," The Mister Handy greeted the dweller as he approached. "You are seven hours late for work, but there's still time. Are you here to—"

"Not now, Rusty." Bobby waved the robot off as he approached one of the walls. He reared back and gave it a pathetically underpowered kick, and to Kryger's surprise, the wall slid upward to reveal a hidden door.

"Just through here, outsider." Bobby gestured at the secret entrance. "Mind your step, nobody's been there for a while."

"Right," Kryger drew his laser pistol and switched its built-in flashlight attachment on. "Got any idea what's waiting for us down here? I'd hate to go in blind."

"Mostly roaches and mole rats, sir." Bobby scratched his head. "You gotta be careful deeper into the place, though. The terminals say there's guard robots still clanking 'round down there. Turrets, too."

The major tapped the activation knob on the door console, causing it to noisily slide upward. Peering into the secret Vault hidden entrance, nothing crossed his eyes but complete and utter darkness. His gun's flashlight did much to illuminate the way, but it wasn't nearly enough to provide for the entire team.

"Codsworth," Kryger looked behind his shoulder to regard his robotic companion. "Since you've managed to get someone to repair that searchlight eye of yours, I'm going to assume you're able to use it now. Can you get some light around—"

"H-holy shit!" Bobby suddenly shouted in panic. Kryger set his sights back to the darkened entrance just in time to see a horde of rabid, milky-eyed mole rats rushing toward his company with salivating fangs and dirt-caked claws bared, ready to sink into human flesh.

Despite being visibly caught off-guard by the large concentration of hostile wildlife already converging on his squad, Kryger nonetheless kept calm. "Drive them back! Open fire!"

Preston, Codsworth, Piper, Olin, Paulson and Kryger let loose with their assortment of weapons on the advancing mutant horde, quite literally tearing the rats apart in a defeaning hurricane of bullets and laser pulses. Despite heavy casualties the animals suffered, they continued advancing, running over their dead and dying brethren just to get closer to their prey.

Olin kicked away a charging mole rat as it lunged, breaking its neck. "Mole rats aren't usually this aggressive!" The scribe exclaimed over the gunfire as she blasted wave after wave of the creatures with her laser shotgun. "Why are they throwing themselves at us like this?"

"Maybe Austin just pissed the lot of them off!" Preston shouted back.

Kryger quickly inserted a fresh batch of cells into his weapon and continued firing. "It doesn't matter! Get back to work!"

The team fought in concert with one another. It looked as if the sheer number of rats would eventually overwhelm them, but thanks to Bobby's reactivation of the nearby laser turret grid via a security terminal, the mole rats were eventually wiped out. By the end of it all, the secret Vault entrance was littered with dozens upon dozens of the dead creatures, almost enough to make a pile big enough to walk on. Everyone was in the middle of reloading when one last mole rat emerged from the bodies of its comrades and made one final charge against its human foes.

"One more!" Paulson took aim with his carbine, but was stopped by Kryger's hand pulling his gun down by the barrel. The former watched the latter in mild bafflement as he casually strolled up to the sliding door, pushed the activation knob and caused it to slide down again — right on top of the charging mole rat.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Bobby shielded himself with his hands as the mutated creature was very messily squashed by the falling door. "Jesus!"

"That's the last one, I think." Piper nudged one of the corpses littering the floor with her boot. "Ugh, that was a lotta rats. And you're telling us one bite from these things could end up killing us?"

"Yeah... I dunno, maybe." Bobby answered uncertainly.

"Hmph. There's no way we'll stay uninfected with these many mole rats coming at us from the dark," Kryger noted. "We need a plan before we go charging in."

"Perhaps we could send the robot up ahead of us?" Olin suggested. "After all, it's— _he's_ immune from diseases. We may shoot down the mole rats as they come to attack him."

"No good. The rats couldn't see for shit, but they could probably hear us scurryin' about behind the robot; they'll just burrow under him and jump up at us from the dirt instead." Paulson said. "I reckon we need somethin' to draw 'em out of their holes... somethin' loud and catchy."

"Great idea, Paulson." Kryger grimly smiled. "Use their own heightened hearing against them... I like it. Codsworth, can you access any radio stations from down here?"

"Um, what for?" Piper inquisitively asked Kryger.

"Simple, Ms. Wright. We'll use music and noise to draw the mole rats to attack Codsworth, _then_ the rest of us will shoot them as they appear."

"So... just like whack-a-mole?"

"In the dark... with guns."

Piper laughed. "Don't forget the fatal consequences if you let the rats get to you."

Codsworth floated up to them. "Sir, I'm afraid we're too far underground to catch any radio signals from the surface. We must use alternative sources of noise to draw our quarry out."

"Damn." Kryger pursed his lips and considered his options for a while. "I don't suppose you've got any pre-recorded songs with you after all these years?"

"Uhm, sir..." Codsworth clearly hesitated to speak his next few words. "I _do_ have a couple of songs downloaded into my database... but they're um... erm, I d-don't think you'd want to hear M-Madame Piaf's voice..."

The robot choked back a muffled sob. "Not after... everything that h-happened."

In that instant, the look of confusion on the major's face faded away, replaced by pent-up sorrow and grief. He had been successful at keeping his emotions stowed away by focusing on the present, but then it all came rushing back to him, threatening to suffocate him with guilt and despair.

"I see..." Kryger closed his eyes and grit his teeth as he breathed in a sharp intake of air. It took all his willpower and soldierly discipline to keep himself from breaking down.

"Are you alright, major?" Olin asked out of concern. "Did you get bitten — are you hurt?"

The major shook his head, trying in vain to banish his sorrow. "I—I'm fine!" He wiped his nose as he looked to Codsworth. "What's done is done; there's no point in getting stuck... reminiscing about the past."

His voice was strained and his words were rushed, but the major's calm, nonplussed expression did well to hide his inner turmoil. "We'll just have to make use of the songs."

"Sir, I don't think—" Codsworth tried to object, but was silenced by a stony glare from his master.

"I _said_ I'm fine!" He hoarsely repeated. For a while there, he believed in his own lie. "We'll get to mourning the dead once this is all over. But for now, we've got a job to do and a life to save. Use the songs, Codsworth."

"Yes, sir..." Reluctantly, Codsworth did as he was told. How he wished that everything could be brought back the way they were before the bombs...

* * *

 **An hour later, in the darkness of the secret Vault...**

Curie awoke to the screaming klaxons above her trio of synthetic eyes. Floating up from the floor, the Miss Nanny robot whirled around and peered into the terminals crowded all around her in the room she was confined in.

Rendered in large, red letters, the words "INTRUDER ALERT" were plastered all over the security terminals.

"Ah, visitors!" She crooned to herself. "It has been so long!"

Using her claw arm, Curie inputted commands to view the security cameras nearest to these new arrivals. The terminal took several minutes to boot up and respond thanks to its age, but it did manage its work in due time.

"How curious..." Through the barely-functional cameras, Curie observed a sizable group of heavily-armed people carefully navigating the ruins of the Vault. Among their ranks counted a dog and an extensively customized Mister Handy, with the latter acting as a point-man of sorts. For Vault-Tec security personnel, they definitely looked highly unusual, Curie thought.

Within minutes, the Vault-Tec group ran into a host of ambushing mole rats. The creatures jumped out from the cover of their burrows and made to attack, but against expectations, they rushed ahead to attack the obviously robotic Mister Handy, instead of the organics trailing behind him. Storing mental notes into her memory, Curie observed with rapt attention as these newcomers dealt with the hostile wildlife in their midst.

The Mister Handy did tremendous work illuminating the way and dispatching the mole rats as they pounced at him, hacking and dismembering them in melee with his rotary saw. The humans and the dog following him were no slouches in a fight either — the five humans handily picked off the rats as they appeared from the ground, and the dog was smart to stay enough to back and let his masters take care of most of the creatures, only attacking whenever a mole rat approached close enough.

As the last mutated animal fell to a hail of scattered lasers, the Vault-Tec security personnel left the area as quickly as they arrived, surreptitiously marching further and further into the depths of the Vault.

"Hmm, I wonder where they are now..." Curie thought aloud.

One of her eyes drifted from the camera and to another terminal. She was pleasantly surprised to find out how close they were to her position. If their course was right and with a bit of luck on her part, the Vault-Tec security group would pass by the room Curie had occupied for the last few centuries, and with luck, they'd be just the people the Miss Nanny was hoping to finally meet.

"This is so exciting!" The robot happily floated around. After all these years, her patience would finally be rewarded. "Perhaps I can continue my research after all! Oh, I do so hope that— ooh!"

A monstrously large, horribly mutated mole rat emerged from the ground just beyond Curie's room, violently knocking aside the metal flooring that used to deny its smaller brethren entry. It was clear that this one was the local broodmother — and a rather ornery glowing one, at that.

"Ce n'est pas bien..." Curie muttered quietly as she examined the radioactive monstrosity from the safety of her reinforced lab. If she did nothing to alert her visitors to this new threat, they'd be undoubtedly caught unprepared by the time the gigantic broodmother decided to pounce. It only got worse when more mole rats came shooting from the ground to accompany their brood leader.

"Perhaps I can leave the room and distract them somehow..." Curie briefly entertained the thought, but her own programming zapped her down. She'd need express authorization from a Vault-Tec employee before she could even extend one metal limb outside the confines of the room. "Oh, how frustrating this is!"

The Miss Nanny floated around, trying to come up with a solution to her predicament. "What to do... what to do..."

However, thanks to being equipped with one of the most advanced central processing units in the entire North American continent, she managed a plan quickly. "Ah, oui ! I can release the mole rat disposal toxins into their breathing air! They would expire before the Vault-Tec team arrives! Superb!"

She then enthusiastically hovered over to the toxin controls on another corner of the room, exclaiming, "Curie, vous êtes un génie !"

Before she could trigger the release of the toxins, however, Curie did feel a sudden, inexplicable compulsion to stop. It was stored in her memory, among many other things — she remembered the broodmother when it was still small and young; it could practically fit into a human's palm back then. Most of her old science team's advances in medicine could be attributed just as well to this particular creature, due to being the main test subject in every trial.

"I'm sorry, poor creature..." Curie triggered the release anyway. Slowly and surely, toxic fumes lethal to mole rats seeped into the area. "This should not take long..."

* * *

 **Meanwhile...**

" _...puis un jour tu m'as quittee, depuis je suis desesperee..._ "

"Major," Olin tore her gaze from the monochrome screen of a terminal and looked behind her shoulder. In the background, the soft tunes of an old Édith Piaf song mournfully echoed from Codsworth's external speakers. "I've found something. You might want to take a look."

Kryger checked his corners and all around just to be safe. "Codsworth, hold your ground. Paulson, get your dog and cover me."

Codsworth waved a claw-arm. "Understood, sir. Sitting tight." He started humming to the song, but not happily so.

"Yeah, yeah." Paulson put away his carbine and unholstered his twin revolvers as he moved up after the major.

"What is it, scribe?" Kryger asked, after making his way to Olin. "What've you got?"

Olin adjusted her reading glasses. "This terminal all but confirms it. According to old logs left behind by a pre-war science team, they were in the process of creating a cure for every conceivable disease known to mankind, but they died of natural causes before they could synthesize a "broad spectrum cure". Fortunately, their work was presumably taken over by a custom Miss Nanny robot mentioned here, the Contagions Vulnerability Robotic Infirmary Engineer — CVRIE."

She stood straight and snatched her laser shotgun from the table next to the terminal she used. "If my guess is correct, CVRIE should be just a few corridors away, deeper into the Vault. With the amount of time it had on its hands, it should have already produced at least a dozen samples of this broad spectrum cure for us to apply on Austin, and for me to donate to the proctors."

"Hold it there, Olin." Piper held a hand from where she was standing. "The cure belongs to the dwellers, not the Brotherhood. Besides, I doubt you'd have any use for it."

"We're _not_ going to "use" it as you so ignorantly assume, Reporter Wright." Olin acidly shot back. Kryger nursed his head with his hand in response — he thought the two had learned to get along, but some things really do take a while to change. "Neriah and a few others in the Capital Wasteland would examine this cure, and if possible, create more of it for general use. Our work is for a good cause."

"For a "good cause", or just for yourselves?" Piper scowled bitterly.

"Codsworth, lower that volume! Alright, I've just have had enough of this bickering!" Kryger put himself in between the two women just after the robot did as he was ordered.

"Piper, you of all people should know not to pick fights with your allies; we talked about this before! And you, Olin, didn't you say that there's no point for "unnecessary friction" in this company — have you gone back on your word? Jesus Christ, you're both acting like immature children!"

"... _des fois je reve que je suis dans tes bras, et qu'a l'oreille tu me parles tout bas !_ "

"Turn the music back louder, Codsworth." Taking the relative silence that followed as his cue to spur his squad forward, Kryger motioned for them to follow. "The clock is ticking for Austin. Let's get back on the move."

Eventually, after fighting their way through more mole rats and even a small detail of malfunctioning security robots and turrets, the seven of them reached a research bay of a sorts. The only thing blocking their advance to the cure was a fortified steel door. It looked to be able to slide up normally via a quick button press on the door console years earlier, but has since been jammed stuck thanks to the complete lack of maintenance over the times.

"Shit," Paulson cursed after exerting himself trying to manually push the door up. "This damn thing's stuck. How the hell do we get inside?"

"Hold on," Olin took out her glasses again as he approached a nearby terminal. "This should help."

The rest of the squad watched as the senior scribe attempted to bypass the terminal's security program. Her face was set in a stern, almost bored expression as her fingers masterfully raced on the terminal's attached keyboard. Without much effort on her part, Olin successfully hacked the machine within seconds, impressing most present.

"Damn. You're pretty handy with computers, aren't you, Olin?" Preston held his laser rifle upright, smirking.

"You don't know the half of it, Minuteman." Olin emotionlessly responded. "The door should allow us access... now."

Kryger arched a brow when nothing happened. "When is "now", scribe?"

"Something is not quite right," She stated the obvious, looking genuinely baffled. "It should open, it really should. Perhaps—"

 _THUNK!_

A massive concave dent appeared on the reinforced door, likely from a powerful force smashing into it from the other side. The blow was tremendously powerful; enough to temporarily make the very foundations the squad was standing on to vibrate from the sheer amount of kinetic energy spent. If Kryger wasn't mistaken, he swore he also heard his Geiger counter ticking slightly just then.

"Holy crap!" Piper clumsily tried to bring her gun to bear as an ear-splitting noise escaped from the door, resembling a horrid cross between a furious roar and a gurgling, drawn-out hiss.

"We're not alone here, people!" Preston exclaimed as the creature behind the door repeatedly pounded on it, almost knocking it down then and there. "The song attracted something really, _really_ bad!"

"Yeah, well, it must be a frog, then!" Paulson propped himself behind a concrete pillar and checked his cylinders while Dogmeat started barking and growling at the unseen monstrosity. "No way in hell normal folks would listen to this sappy Euro-horseshit, mutant critters included!"

"Each person to his own, Mr. Paulson. Despite being programmed to be an Englishman to the core, I _do_ find Mrs. Piaf's song quite pleasant... despite the danger it attracts to us now." Codsworth said.

Kryger and Olin kept silent and merely replaced their standard fusion cells for overcharged ones, almost in concert with one another. Soon after did the door finally succumb and give way, kicking up a large cloud of dust as it clattered noisily to the metal floor.

What then immediately appeared before the dust cloud seemed to be yet another horribly mutated, highly radioactive abomination, only significantly more intimidating than the standard fare found in the wastes. It resembled a mole rat in its overall shape, but it had green glowing, festering tumors and blisters growing out of its skin and exposed flesh. It possessed hollow sockets for eyes, and its body was significantly larger and more bloated compared to "normal" mole rats. Just looking at the lumbering creature made Kryger reaffirm his belief that radiation brought out the worst in everything.

The mole rat broodmother screeched at the squad and menacingly bared the unusually sharp fangs it mutated in its inner maw. But before it could charge the squad, it suddenly leaned over to its side and started vomiting a prodigious amount of a bright green, partially-melted substance into the floor, to the disgust of the entire squad. To their further surprise, the creature quickly lost its balance and collapsed on its own vomit, convulsing violently and rapidly.

"Squad..." Kryger steadied himself. The urge to empty his stomach in the same manner the creature did was overpowering. "Put the damn thing out of its misery."

The squad took noticeably long to respond. It took three seconds of concentrated small arms fire to make the creature stop squirming around in apparent agony.

"Move in." The major immediately went back to business, nonchalantly stepping over the broodmother' hole-ridden corpse. "No point in standing around here. Let's go."

Inside the research bay, the squad was appalled to find several dead mole rats littering the area, with each lying on a pool of their own vomit just like the broodmother. There were barred cells lining the walls, and the middle of the area was decorated with several large and small holes from burrowing mole rats.

"Smells like death in here." Preston said, and Dogmeat barked in agreement.

"We won't stay for long." Kryger replied. "Fan out into fireteams, people. Use those flashlights, watch for burrowers and find the CVRIE."

Doing as they were instructed, the squad split off into their designated partners before heading off to search the area on their own accord. Kryger sauntered off with Piper, Preston spotted for Paulson while Dogmeat watched their backs, and Olin tried to keep civil around Codsworth.

Soon, after fifteen minutes of fruitless searching through the desolate research bay, Kryger and Piper found a room they haven't rifled through yet, located just after ascending a flight of stairs.

"There," The major pointed at the room. "Watch my back, I'm checking it out."

The reporter cocked her shotgun. "Easy-peasy lemon squeezy."

Kryger moved out, moving from one bit of cover to another as he approached the objective. Eventually, he passed close enough to the large glass window on the front of the room to see something moving inside.

" _Unknown single contact up front, inside the room."_ Safely behind a piece of cover, Kryger made US Army hand signals for Piper behind him. " _Prepare to engage."_

 _"_ What?" Piper hoarsely whispered in the distance, trying to keep her voice down. "Green, what are you doing with your hands? Did you get bitten just then?"

Kryger sighed. "Get ready! I think I saw something moving inside the—"

"Hello?" A new, slightly distorted voice interrupted the major, sending him scrambling for his gun and aiming it at the source: the opaque window in front of the room.

"I see you there! At last!" The voice was speaking as if filtered through a synthesizer, and curiously, it noticably sported a lilting, rather gentle French quality to it. "Please do not be alarmed; there are no more hostile mole rats in your immediate vicinity... I released a toxin into their breathing air to euthanize them in order to accomodate your arrival."

Kryger let that sink in for a while. "...are you the CVRIE?" He shouted from behind cover, just to be safe.

"Ah, you know my designation! Très bien! I assume this means you are Vault-Tec security!" The voice happily answered. "I have waited so very patiently for you to arrive! I placed an emergency call so long ago, and I was beginning to think that something dreadful must have happened. I am pleased to report I completed my primary duties no less than 83 years ago."

Kryger didn't know how to respond to that, so he took to gesturing for Piper's attention instead. "Can you see the robot? It should be a customized Miss Nanny model, according to the scribe." He tersely whispered.

Piper grit her teeth as she stood on a knee and took a quick glance at the window ahead.

"...yeah, she looks a bit like Codsworth before you strapped a whole scrapyard of junk to him." She whispered back as she returned under cover. "Why'd you ask?"

"Just a safety precaution. Watch my back."

"You got it."

The major then stood up from cover and revealed himself to the Miss Nanny. "Does that mean you have some of that... "broad spectrum cure", CVRIE?"

The CVRIE waved her mechanical limbs around like she would with hands. "Yes, I have! Provided you give me the authorization to be released from the lab, I will be more than happy to hand it over from my keeping to yours, officer!"

"Why can't you just leave? Wait, let me guess... your programming prevents you from doing that."

"Precisely. I require verbal or written authorization from any employees of Vault-Tec, even from security."

Kryger decided to keep the facade the robot passed on him. "You have my authorization to leave the room, then. You're free to go, if you wish."

"Superb!" The CVRIE seemed elated. "Excellent! I have almost given up hope of ever leaving this place. Let me unlock the door for you."

Kryger and Piper waited patiently as the robot floated away from the window and to the door. She spent a full minute disengaging all the locks before the door finally slid up, allowing access to the locked room.

"Y'know, the CVRIE sounds a bit like that woman from Codsworth's tapes." The reporter noted to the major. "What was her name again... Pheeyaf?"

"Piaf." The major corrected. "She's probably programmed that way. My wife spoke like her, but she tried to tone it down after we settled in Sanctuary Hills."

"You never do talk much about your wife, Green." Piper said.

Kryger grimaced. "That's because I'd rather not. Come on, let's move in and get the cure."

Stepping inside the derelict lab, Fireteam Able was greeted by the CVRIE, holding out a peculiar black syringe in her claw-grip arm.

"I entrust you with the broad spectrum cure I developed in collaboration with my late science team. If you have an equivalent to my digital Hippocratic Oath, please use it quickly to avoid any undue suffering." The Miss Nanny handed over the syringe to the major, who eagerly took it. "However, please be advised that there is only one dose left, and I will not be able to make any more with the resources we have in the Vault."

The last few words from the CVRIE made Kryger arch a brow. "Only one cure? Shouldn't you have at least a dozen more?"

"That is correct..." She sounded saddened by the slight disappointment in Kryger's voice. "There used to be a lot more than this, but they all expired with age, and sadly, the organic compounds necessary to make more of the broad spectrum cure have all but deteriorated. I apologize on behalf of my team for this inconvenince, monsieur. It is not my intention to displease you."

"No, no. It's alright." Kryger waved it off. "It'd be good to have more of these "all-cure" syringes, but as it is, we really only need one dose at the moment. Thank you, CVRIE."

The robot perked up at that. "Then I am content, officer. Hopefully, now I can further my scientific endeavors... and for convenience's sake, you may wish to call me "Curie" instead. May I learn your own name?"

"Maj—" Kryger stopped and cleared his throat. "Officer James Kryger, Vault-Tec security. This is my partner, Officer Wright."

"To protect and serve!" Piper declared sarcastically. "Or was it to serve and protect? I can't remember which."

Curie chuckled a bit. "It is my pleasure to meet you both. Since my job here is done, I think I'll just... follow you out."

Kryger shrugged. "We have to regroup with a few others in my unit first, if you don't mind. We don't want them getting lost now, do we?"

"That is acceptable, Officer James. With the mole rat broodmother's death, her ilk should have dispersed by now, and we are free to depart for safer areas as we please."

"Then let's proceed." Kryger gestured at the door. "Ladies first."

* * *

 **Later...**

"Well," Overseer McNamara stood up from her chair next to Austin's bedside. "Look who it is! You've returned!"

Kryger removed his armored coat and hung it on a nearby coat stand as he entered the clinic. "I hope we're not too late. We found something out there." He brought out the broad spectrum cure for the overseer to see.

"The cure!" Dr. Forsythe then walked into view. He appeared elated to see the major's company returning to his clinic successful in their mission and seemingly none the worse for wear. "You've found it, I see!"

"It was hard trying not to get bitten," Preston gladly stowed his heavy rifle away. "But we all managed it with Codsworth. He's our star player back there."

Piper nodded. "Yeah, one of us might've gone down as sick as Austin if it weren't for Codsworth here taking most of the heat for the team. Good work, buddy."

Even the surly Paulson agreed. "The tin man did fine, I s'pose. Good thing he ain't made outta skin an' flesh." Dogmeat barked in agreement.

Codsworth laughed. "Hah! Oh, hush now, you're making this unit blush. We ALL did good work out there!"

Kryger, with Olin and Curie at his side, held the broad spectrum cure for the other man to take, but retracted it before Forsythe could take it off his hands.

"This is the only sample of the cure in _existence_ , Dr. Forsythe." The senior scribe's voice was firm and steely. Despite this, she also sounded a bit sour, as if she recently had to cope with disappointment.

"And I will not be able to synthesize any more of it until I receive the necessary organic compounds and equipment. I apologize." The Miss Nanny said.

The major nodded. "Make this count, doc. It's Austin's life on the line." He then finally passed over the syringe into Forsythe's keeping.

"Rest assured I will, major." Forsythe promised firmly. "Alright, let's see if it works..."

Kryger, Olin and Curie observed as Forsythe positioned himself beside Austin's unconscious, blanketed form. He leaned over and, somewhat unusually, applied the stimpak-shaped cure to the child's neck. A mere few seconds passed, when suddenly, Austin's eyes reopened.

"W-what?" Austin rubbed his eyes and sat up, setting his covers aside. Remarkable, given that he just recovered from a potentially lethal disease in such a small space of time. "Where... where am I?"

The overseer released a breath she was holding. "Thank God."

Forsythe smiled warmly. "You're in the clinic. You have gotten quite sick, child, but thankfully, Major Kryger and his friends stopped by to help and save your life."

"Really?" The child's eyes widened. He turned to his saviors. "Gee, thanks guys. I'm glad you saved me."

"It's not a problem, kid." Kryger, for the first time since his company was stranded in the Vault, allowed himself a genuine, mirthful smile. "Happy to be of service."

"On behalf of the entirety of Vault 81, you have my thanks, Major Kryger." McNamara said. Her mood quickly turned sour as she turned to Austin himself. "As for you, young man, Dr. Penske has been worried to death about you. Did you know that she actually suffered tremendous migraines due to the stress of potentially losing you, and had to be _forced_ to get some rest? What got into your fool head, child — going into such an obviously hazardous place like that?"

"I... I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused." Austin sheepishly apologized. "But the thing is, Mrs. Gwen, nothing exciting ever happens around here. The Vault's boring, while exploring the Commonwealth seems fun; when I grow up, I'd like to be just like Mr. Jimmy and his friends."

"Hmph," Kryger didn't like the sound of that. The last thing he wanted was an actual person trying to emulate him. "You'll learn to appreciate how boring the Vault is once you take a step outside the door, Austin. Take my word for it — you definitely _don't_ want to go out there."

"Aww, you're such a buzzkill, mister." The child crossed his arms and pouted. "I mean, how bad could it really be out there?"

"You should take the major's advice, kid." Forsythe ruffled Austin's ginger head. "If it weren't for him and his crew, you might have died."

Dr. Forsythe, the major and the overseer exchanged a few more words before the former two once again gave their thanks to the latter for his squad's efforts. Kryger insisted that he take no rewards, but Forsythe was adamant that the major would need his unused "syringer" rifle out in the wastes, and McNamara was just as persistent about giving him permanent custody of one of the living quarters in the lower levels. Kryger hid his reluctance as he received the rewards the dwellers offered and quickly left the clinic with his squad in tow soon after.

"So, where will you go now, Curie?" Piper spoke up as the entire company marched back to their designated living quarters to catch up on sleep.

"Ah, forgive me. I admit that I have not given much thought to this. I just wanted to get out of the lab and hand over the results of my primary directive as soon as possible." The Miss Nanny admitted.

"I suppose I could... stay in the Vault and assist with whatever I can... but I must say I do not find this idea appealing. My entire life has been spent within these steel corridors — I have analyzed and learned everything there is to know here. If possible, I would very much like to see more of this world... see the rest of the Commonwealth. I believe this is the only way I could continue with my research."

Kryger arched a brow and slowed his pace to match his with the medical robot. "That, Curie, sounded like a request to join our little group."

"I was not aware you have intentions of leaving the Vault, Officer James." Curie said, sounding a bit confused. "Do security officers like you depart the safety of the Vault for the rigors of the Commonwealth often? I admit, this is highly unusual."

"Well..." The major rubbed the back of his neck.

"Psst," Piper turned to Curie as Kryger dithered. "We're not _really_ Vault-Tec security! We're... wait for it... Commonwealth wastelanders!"

Surprisingly, the Miss Nanny didn't seem very affected by the revelation. In fact, she seemed glad to hear it so. "Superb, all the better, then! I can rest easy knowing that I will be entrusting my safety to people with extensive wasteland experience."

"Ya ain't mad the major and his pet pixie tricked ya?" Paulson smirked as Piper glared at him.

Curie moved the eye she focused on Paulson to one side and another. "Why would I? Monsieur James deceived my programming, yes, but at the same time, I am most grateful for being granted release after centuries of imprisonment. I... how do you say... "owe him one". That is how Americans say it, yes?"

Kryger shook his head, disagreeing. "You don't owe me or Piper anything. That cure you provided us was more than sufficient for your freedom. The decision to join us into the Commonwealth is solely up to you."

"You are most kind to say so," The Miss Nanny said, graciously. "And I will be more than glad to accompany this group out of the Vault, but please tell me, what is it do you wish to accomplish out there? In the Commonwealth, I mean."

The major's gait noticeably stiffened. "My wife was killed and my son was taken from me. I intend to track down those responsible, and if possible, bring my son back. I won't sugarcoat it for you: we'll be going through a lot of shit the wasteland throws at us, and I can't guarantee anybody's safety in this company. But then again, you probably already know that."

"I understand. I am saddened to hear of your loss, I truly am..." The eye Curie had focused on Kryger bobbed lower. "If it meant reaching your goals easier, I would like to offer myself in your service, Monsieur James. Through this agreement, I will be able to continue my research, and your company would surely benefit from my medical expertise. This is a good deal, no?"

The major felt a profound sense of déjà vu just then. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts and will away the lingering feeling of dizziness, Kryger refocused on the current matter.

"It's a deal, then. Bienvenue à bord, Curie."

* * *

 _Author's Notes and Disclaimer_

Whoo, boy. This chapter took longer than I imagined it weeks ago, but I'm glad it's over and done with.

With Curie's addition to as the team's medical expert, the only thing (I think) it needs is a support gunner. Since this isn't a crossover story where I could just easily conjure up a bizarre and highly improbably story of how the Heavy Weapons Guy got himself stuck in the Commonwealth, I guess I'll just have to find a suitable canon character (like Strong, maybe). Failing that, I can always make an OC.

The Fallout franchise is property of Bethesda Softworks LLC. All rights reserved.


	9. Author's Musings I

Hey, all. I'm just letting you know in advance that I'll be taking a bit of a break in writing for a while. There's just been some complications with real life, and I'm afraid I won't be able to have access to computers (mostly) for some time. Don't worry, I should be back after a month or so, and maybe less than that if things settle down a bit.

As for the next chapter, it should deal with Augustus somewhere in the Great Midwest Commonwealth, then back to the original group's journey across the Commonwealth. So far, I've clocked around six thousand words.

Well, that's all I've got to say. I'm sorry, and I'll see you later.


	10. Extraction Pt I

**Fort Wayne, the Great Midwest Commonwealth**

"...hurrah for the flag of the free... may it wave as our standard foreeeverr..."

Half-drunk, Augustus idly muttered as he rifled through the mutilated remains of a raider he savagely bludgeoned to death with the stock of his rifle earlier, along with the rest of his gang.

"...the gem of the land an' the sea, the-ha ban-ner... _of_ the riiight."

He flashed a yellowed half-grin upon fishing out an unopened packet of cigarettes from the dead raider scum's coat front pocket. He momentarily stopped looting just to light one up and smoke it. With a more satisfied look on his face, the old scavenger continued on with his grisly work.

"...let despots remember the day... when our faaathers with mi-hi-ghty endeeaa-vor... proclaimed as they marched to the fraaay... that by their might, and by their right, it stands foree _ev_ — oh. "

It was quite the find: hidden away inside the raider's coat itself was an exceedingly long, serrated sword bayonet, circa the 19th century. How a common wasteland scum managed to get his greasy mitts on such a prized weapon baffled the old man, but he _did_ remember coming across a looted war museum dedicated to the first World War.

"Heh. God bless this country... what's left of it." Augustus stashed the blade away, inside his own coat. He made to stand up and continue looting the raider's other dead fellows, when he was suddenly forced to slither into the shadows and keep a tight lid on his mouth. Something was coming... and it was loud.

 _"—CKET'S RED GLARE, THE BOMBS BURSTING IN AIR, GAVE PROOF THROUGH THE NIGHT, THAT OUR FLAG WAS STILL THERE!_ "

Immediately after did a shadow loom over the old scavenger, accompanied by the sound of rotors whirling around. A lone vertibird painted in Enclave colors just passed by him overhead, loudly streaming a song that used to represent all sovereign citizens of the United States.

 _"OH, SAY! DOES THAT STAR-SPANGLED BANNER YET WAVE, O'ER THE LAND OF THE FREE, AND THE HOME OF THE BRAVE?_ "

Augustus cursed up a storm and hurriedly picked up what equipment he left lying on the ground. With faint hope in his heart and renewed strength in his legs, he sprinted down the street in an effort to catch up with the hovering aircraft.

"HEY!" He shouted in the air, desperate to be heard. "Over here, you fucking apes! I'm right HERE! DOWN! HERE!"

After a few moments of continuous running and more screaming, Augustus felt massively relieved to see the vertibird swivel around to his direction, its pilots having finally spotted his small profile jaunting across the empty streets. Augustus gradually slowed down to a leisurely jog as the aircraft carefully lowered itself down to his level. He had hoped to make contact with the Illinois outposts through his underlings from before the fall for other reasons, but this time, he had to do it in the flesh for another reason entirely.

The vertibird's wheels made contact with the cracked pavement with a pair of guttural scrubbing noises. Immediately after did the craft's side doors slide off to the side, revealing a rather large group of soldiers both in and out of power armor.

"Are you Colonel Augustus Autumn?" One of the soldiers asked as she climbed down from the craft, to meet the former Enclave colonel up close. "We've heard from our scouts that you've been making waves all over this area; clearing raider camps, defending settlements and wiping out feral ghouls! That right, sir?"

"That's right, soldier. I'm Autumn." Old man Autumn smiled crookedly, looking well at ease.

Of course, this demeanor of his was a carefully-practiced facade. At first sight, Autumn immediately noticed that something wasn't quite right with these "Enclave" soldiers; instead of Winchester Model P94 plasma rifles, they were carrying the more recent Capital Wasteland urban variant. Furthermore, despite getting the brown and dark gray paint-scheme right, their power armored soldiers wore advanced X-01 power armor instead of the old Mark II, as appropriate for the technologically-outdated Illinois personnel.

With this in mind, the former colonel hurried to formulate his game plan in case things turned sour. "I'm assuming you boys and girls are from the Chicago contingent? I've been meaning to find you — I've got some important news to tell your commanding officer."

"You could say that, sir." She nodded, smiling as well. She made some sort of signal with her hand to her comrades behind her, inside the vertibird. From his peripherals, Autumn could make out the faint profiles of people inside the vehicle arming up, shouldering their guns and double-checking their ammo. Without a doubt, Autumn knew it was his cue to act.

"Oh, and you might want to stand still for a moment, sir." The soldier's grin threatened to split her face in two. "We're just—"

Without so much as a warning, Autumn socked her in the face, crushing her nose and sending her staggering back. The soldier quickly refocused her wits, unholstered her revolver sidearm and made to point it at Autumn, when the latter cruelly swiped it out of her grasp with a vicious swing of the sword bayonet he found, unintentionally slicing off a couple of her fingers in the act.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The colonel drawled, grabbing hold of the soldier's tactical riggings with his left hand and pulling her close. He then used his right to set the serrated edge of his blade hovering just an inch over his hostage's throat, silencing her agonized yelping. Behind her, however, the other soldiers hurriedly filed out of their craft, brandishing an armory's worth of laser and plasma weaponry at their old Enclave foe.

"Put the damn knife down, old man! Unhand Knight Douglas this instant, or face the consequences!" One of them shouted. "Elder Pedersen has given the order for your arrest or summary execution! Give it up and make this easy on yourself!"

"Brotherhood scum." Colonel Autumn sneered. "Thought you could trick me, did you? I'm insulted."

"You'd do well to stand down, colonel." The soldier Autumn was taking hostage managed to word out, despite her pain. "More of us are coming. What makes you think you can get away from us this time?"

Autumn smirked. "Easy, my dear."

In a swift series of movements, Autumn pulled out all the pins on the three grenades hanging from the soldier's riggings. She had enough time to widen her eyes before her captor shoved her back, right toward her own comrades. With his foes completely distracted, Autumn took the opportunity to whirl around and make a run for it.

"Shit! Take it off, TAKE IT OFF, TAKEITOFF!" The soldier shouted in panic as her comrades hurriedly tried to pry off her riggings. Fortunately for her, a power armored colleague managed to rip it from her body just in time. With a grunt, he tossed it into the distance, where it exploded harmlessly.

"The old bastard's getting away!" Autumn heard one of them cry out behind him; he immediately knew that a volley was imminent. He looked around the empty street as he sprinted for all his worth, but to his dismay, found no adequate cover he could hide behind nearby.

"Then what are you standing around there for?! CUT HIM DOWN!"

Autumn hissed and cursed profusely as enemy projectile fire screeched past his sides and over his head. With no cover in sight and with the threat of death hanging over his head, the old man knew he had no choice but to use the expensive device hanging from his belt like a satchel.

The Brotherhood squad was baffled to see their exposed target suddenly disappear from sight, as if he just vanished into thin air.

"Watch it, gang!" The power armored designated marksman shouted, peering through her rifle's tinted scope. "He's got a Commonwealth-variant stealth boy, but I've got thermal sights! He's heading deeper into Fort Wayne, thinking he can lose us there!"

"Excellent... some sport!" The paladin squad leader exclaimed. "Rally on me, soldiers! We must relocate and erase this old foe— but be wary!"

He smirked as he reloaded his steaming plasma rifle. "The infamous Colonel Autumn would not make for an easy prey." He took the first step forward, pointing a metal finger into the distant ruins. "Onward, brothers!"

* * *

 **The Commonwealth**

"Deux gigaoctets de données !" Kryger sounded incredulous and amazed. "Comment est-ce possible ?"

"Oui, je suis plus avancé que la plupart des modèles, monsieur." Curie sounded eager to respond in kind.

"Ach," Kryger lightheartedly scoffed. "Il n'y a pas besoin d'être modeste; vous êtes beaucoup plus que cela."

Meanwhile, at the back of the formation, the rest of the group trailed behind, listening to the major and the Miss Nanny babbling unintelligibly with one another at the front. The two of them had been prattling this way ever since before they even left Vault 81, with no signs of stopping so far.

"Hey, fellas, can y'all cut the damn frog-talk just for a sec?" Paulson cried out from the back. "How far are we to Diamond City? We've been walking for hours, and there ain't no goddamn green walls in sight! Are we even headin' the right way?"

Kryger looked behind. "The pip-boy never lies, Paulson. We should be just an hour from it now."

"He's right, I recognize this rock." Piper quipped. "Oh, it's got a bit of dried blood on it. Forget what I said."

Preston rolled his eyes and looked to the major. "How long do we plan on staying in the settlement, sir?"

"Long enough to resupply our equipment and do some repairs on both our robots — Codsworth needs his guns cleaned and recalibrated and Curie hasn't had any maintenance since before the nukes fell." Kryger scratched his bearded chin. "Might also be interesting to see what kind of internal hardware she has installed... they all look cutting-edge, the most advanced I've ever seen. If I can get my hands on the proper tools, I bet there's plenty of room to improve on Curie's Miss Nanny chassis... if she'd let me, of course."

Piper snickered. "Jeez, Green, buy her a robot drink first. You've only just met."

"Hah," Kryger heaved a single, sarcastic breath of a laugh. "Thanks for the suggestion, Piper. What do you think, Curie?"

"I do believe a few modifications are indeed in order." The Miss Nanny said, uncertain. "In the lab, my survival was not much of a priority, as you must have figured out. As a result, I may not be able to function as well as I should out here. I apologize for this."

"If needed, I can assist with this, major." Olin cut in. "As a scribe, I know much about pulling machines apart and modifying them to suit their purposes better."

Kryger nodded. "That's good, though I'm not too sure about the "pulling apart" bit. We're only going to weld in a few useful bits of steel and tweak her software to accommodate them, just like I did with Codsworth. Might be useful to install a better medical subroutine, too. I know the Mister Handy and its variants aren't known for their fine motor skills."

"I am most relieved to hear that, but I assure you, I have a grip as steady as any human surgeon." Curie waved her claw-arm for emphasis. "But enough about me. How is it that you have come to know so much about robotics, monsieur? You simply _must_ be an engineer."

The major balked at that. "I'm not smart or motivated enough for an engineering doctorate, but my family had connections with the armed forces, so I enlisted there instead. With the amount of Gutsies in the infantry and the general lack of competent mechanics a few years into the war, you'd _have_ to pick up a few things on how to keep them running and on your side."

"Ah, so you're a serviceman. Most intriguing." Curie sounded impressed. "That explains why the others sometimes refer to you as a major. You must be very brave to willingly risk your life fighting the Chinese!"

Kryger arched a brow. "Yes... but don't you find that odd, what with everything that happened out here?"

"Actually," Curie pondered on that for a moment. "Now that you made me think about it, yes... yes, I do."

"My master isn't _exactly_ from this time period we tread, madam." Codsworth pitched in. "I was with his family from before the war, more than two hundred years ago. Just before the bombs fell, the Krygers managed to take refuge in Vault 111, where they were suspended in cryogenic stasis by the Vault staff without their knowledge."

The Mister Handy mimicked a shivering motion. "Unfortunately for me, I had to stay behind and await their return to the surface. I hoped they'd return after a decade or so, but woe is me, my wait was a lot longer than that. All the horrors I've witnessed would've certainly be enough to drive anyone mad, but I persevered. It was a harrowing experience altogether, but I'm sure not as much as what the major had to endure."

"I... understand..."

Curie seemed a little overwhelmed by the amount of information dumped into her processors — which was something, considering that she had two entire gigabytes at her disposal. In comparison, Codsworth only had a single megabyte to himself, even after all his upgrades.

"If it's any consolation, I know how it is to wait a long time in complete isolation, Monsieur Codsworth. Still, I am sure my time in the lab could scarcely compare to yours in the Commonwealth."

Codsworth waved his own claw-arm in a dismissive, nonchalant manner. "Eh, it wasn't all bad really. The constant danger staved off the crippling boredom and kept me on my toes, it did! Ha hah!"

The Miss Nanny laughed along. "Yes, I suppose it must have been quite the exciting experience for you." She then trained one of her synthetic eyes at Kryger.

"Although I must say, Commandant Kryger, your part in it must be the most fascinating aspect of my research thus far. What are the chances of ever meeting a Mister Handy, _and_ his perfectly preserved serviceman master from before the war? Barring biblical figures such as Methuselah, you must be the longest-lived human in history!"

"Eh-hum." Paulson coughed.

"Oh, the many questions I could think of asking you. It will take us many hours — and perhaps even days — but for science and progress, it will unquestioningly be worth every minute spent!"

Upon hearing that, Paulson promptly hid behind the others and tried to draw less attention to himself.

Kryger shrugged. "Maybe one day, Curie, but I think it's time we focus on our main objective. Diamond City is just around the corner, we should prepare ourselves to enter the settlement. Preston, you're in charge of our inventory; how much caps have we got left?"

"Give or take two thousand. Maybe a little less than that." The Minuteman answered frankly.

"Right, we should have enough to pay for everything we need... but if we find ourselves short, we could always pawn off the excess gear we scavenged from the Gunners." The major uttered, mostly to himself. He then turned to Piper. "Ms. Wright, should we expect trouble at the gates?"

"Not really, but I'm not completely sure." The reporter scratched her cheek. "You've been inside, so McDonough shouldn't have a problem with seeing you around, but then again, you didn't stick around long enough for anyone to take notice of you."

"Hm, and I certainly don't plan on changing that." Kryger frowned. "We're just gonna get in, get what we need, and get out as quickly as we can before we draw undue attention. Am I understood, squad?"

Piper looked annoyed. "At least give me some time to see if Nat's gotten into trouble while I'm away. You won't even notice I left for a while."

Kryger sighed. He softened his tone. "I'm sure we can spare time for your sister. But for now, we should keep moving."

More hours passed as the squad kept traversing the ruins, though it did not take long for the distinctive faded green walls of the old Fenway Park baseball stadium to appear in sight. This time around, however, patrolling four-man squads of Diamond City Security officers roamed the area, looking all agitated and alert.

"Hey! You there!" An officer called out to the major's company as they approached. He carried a dirty, heavily modded Type 93 assault rifle and spoke in a subdued Scottish brogue. "Everyone's on high alert right now, and we've orders to not just let any idiot into town! What're you all here for?"

"Lemme handle this, Green." Piper placed herself in front of the major, though such an action was unnecessary. The major was just about to let her take point, being the only native of the city in his group. "Officer Craig? It's me, Piper Wright! What the heck happened out here?"

The Institute happened, lass." Officer Craig frowned, wiping his nose. "It happened a week ago. Some guy suspected one of his mates got replaced by a synth, and as it turned out, he's right. When it found out that its cover's blown, the bloody robot pulled out a shotgun and went _berserk_ — right in the middle of town."

The man ran a hand through his hair in a weary, exasperated manner. "Lotta good people died before it was put down. Three adult civilians, two children and one off-duty officer... gone, just like that."

"Wh-what?" Piper noticeably paled at the man's grim answer. "Natalie — is she alright?"

The guard grimly nodded. "No need to get your knickers in a twist; the girl's fine. Those crazy Bolsheviks at the Dugout Inn made sure of that, I heard."

The reporter gave out a sigh of relief and let her tensed shoulders sag. "Words can't express how glad I am to hear that. I'll _definitely_ write an article about the Bobrovs once I get to the printing press. Can you let me through now?"

"Technically, McDonough's orders still stand; you're not allowed in unless he says otherwise." Officer Craig pulled his gun upward and stepped to the side. "But whatever, I have more important shite to deal with today."

Piper gratefully nodded. "Thanks a lot, Craig."

He stopped her before she could take another step forward. "Aye, but do be more careful inside, though. People are... tense, after all that happened. Also, that last article you wrote? People thought you finally went off the deep end with that one; they thought you've run out of ideas and started making things up. It didn't help that you disappeared with little explanation soon after."

"Excuse me?" She blinked. "I assure you, what I wrote was a hundred _and_ twenty percent true. That person I wrote about — Major Kryger? He's right there behind me, see?" She indicated at the major, who shrugged and waved back. "He's _totally_ real."

"That so?" The man cocked a brow, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. "Hm, so you're telling me that man over there's the same square-jawed, steely-eyed git from all over the recruiting posters in the Commonwealth? He looks tired... and bored. Decidedly less impressive-lookin' in person."

"Oh, come on! He's practically dressed for a parade!" Piper exclaimed, somewhat offended. "How can he look so unimpressive to you with all those ribbons and golden crap plastered all over his body?"

The man squinted, scratching his chin. "They look like shoddy knock-offs to me..."

"It might surprise you to know that I'm both capable of hearing, and also physically present." Kryger deadpanned, annoyed.

"Okay, okay. No need to get all worked up." Officer Craig held up a hand from his rifle and smirked. "Head on inside, but remember to stay out of trouble. We'll be watching you... as always."

* * *

 **The Citadel, the Capital Wasteland**

Sentinel Winters stared at the holotag she had in her hands. Idly, she traced a finger against the tiny letters engraved on its surface. Together, they spelled a name she was glad Sarah, Tristan and Gallows never got to see in the flesh.

 _As her commanding officer at the time of her death, I am responsible for her alone_ , her thoughts resounded in her head; cold, unfriendly, accusing. _The guilt should fall solely to me._

"It's not your fault, sister." Paladin-Commander Kodiak must have noticed her grieving. "Nobody could have known the mercs had rigged their armory with explosives. The Pride was lucky to have gotten out of that place with only one casualty."

"I know." Winters breathed out, pocketing the tag. She turned, looking to Kodiak with a blank, weary stare.

"But... I just can't help but think about what might have happened if things worked out differently. What if I didn't order her to take point? What if I made her stop being stubborn for just _one_ moment and had her take up a T-60 suit instead of her old T-45?"

The sentinel looked down, sighing, "There are so many things I could have done before I sent her in there... so many precautions I could've taken... If only I was a little more careful, Dusk might still be with us — missing some limbs and scarred for her trouble, but _alive_."

Kodiak shook his head, gently setting his hand over his leader's shoulder.

"There was nothing else you could have done, Elise. Dusk would have hated to see you like this. Don't get me wrong, she'd _love_ to see Glade and Colvin crying, but you moping about because of her? She'd have slapped you back into shape."

"You're right about that." Winters uneasily forced out a grin. "Ugh, let's just get this over with. Come on, the rest of the boys are waiting for us."

With that said, Winters and Kodiak pushed past the door leading to the Citadel courtyard, where a Brotherhood-styled funeral service is being held for another departed member of Lyons' Pride.

Elder Maxson was at the center of the group of gathered brothers and sisters. He was in the middle of delivering an impassioned speech about Paladin Dusk's previous accomplishments in service to the East Coast Chapter, when he noticed the sentinel arriving into sight. After acknowledging her with a firm nod, the young elder went right back to where he left off.

Star Paladin Vargas left his position in the crowd and walked in step with Winters and Kodiak as they passed by. "Elise, where have you been? I was beginning to think you'd never show up."

"I was considering that." Winters grimaced. "I don't deserve to be here."

"Nonsense." Vargas frowned. "You're the last person to be excluded from Dusk's funeral."

Winters said no more after that. Together with Vargas and Kodiak, she navigated through the crowd and took the empty seat reserved for her. Upon arriving there, she could see Knight-Commander Colvin at the front alongside Maxson after being summoned. There, he proceeded to sing Dusk's praises while failing to hold back his tears, the notorious rivalry he had with her all but forgotten.

Elder Maxson took the grieving Colvin by the shoulder. "She is indeed one of the Brotherhood's finest. Truly, it is a shame to lose such a soldier like Paladin Dawn Hyeung."

He then raised his other hand, balling it into a fist. "The causeless, avaricious remnants of Talon Company has yet again claimed the life of a righteous defender of our cause. We must not let this slight stand unavenged, brothers and sisters! Together, we must endeavor to continue eradicating what's left of these honorless bastards off the face of the land we've struggled to rebuild, lest they take another of our own!"

Most of the Brotherhood audience started cheering as they expressed their agreement. They only stopped when Maxson held up a hand in a silencing gesture. After a while, he took hold of the microphone from its stand and started to speak through it once more.

"Just past our borders, near the ruins of Baltimore, lies a sizable Talon Company hideout. Recon Squad Damocles has reason to believe that the mercenaries have set up a lucrative trade peddling slaves in that area, and they have yet to reinforce their numbers after having lost so many to our forces and that of the super mutants. If we strike at them now, we may yet come down upon them at their weakest... _then_ we'll exact justice for every man we've lost to their guns, as well as deliver freedom to those that need it most!"

The resulting cheer that followed the elder's speech was defeaning. Maxson had singlehandedly whipped the crowd of solemn mourners into a frenzy of hate and righteous fury... a testament to his charisma and considerable oratory skill.

"I need volunteers!" Elder Maxson proclaimed through the microphone he was holding as he started marching back into the depths of the Citadel, with his rabid horde of avid followers close behind his every step. "Those who step up to heed my call shall be among those sent inside the first vertibirds. I want—"

Maxson's deep, reverberating voice trailed off as he disappeared behind the door, leaving the remaining members of Lyons' Pride behind in the courtyard by themselves. Slowly, they exchanged a few more words in memory of Paladin Dusk before parting ways.

* * *

 **Diamond City, the Commonwealth**

"Okay..." Kryger turned around to look to his company. They were standing in the middle of town, just beyond Takahashi's noodle shop.

"Olin, Codsworth, Curie, you three are with me. We need to find ourselves a spot where we can do some repairs and retrofitting safely. Preston, you're in charge of buying our "groceries"; try not to spend all our caps in one place. Piper, I'll leave you to do whatever you need while in the city. Paulson, where do you want to go with Dogmeat?"

"Hm, I'm feeling thirsty all the sudden..." The cowboy drawled.

Kryger sighed. "You've been doing a lot of good, Paulson, so I'll let you go this time. Just... try not to get too drunk, okay?"

"Not a problem, son." Paulson smirked. Followed closely by his dog, he turned around and made a beeline straight toward the nearest pub. Quickly, he disappeared from sight.

"Right..." Kryger set his sights back to the team. "Any questions I need to hear before we go about the city?"

Preston raised a hand, and Kryger wordlessly implored him to speak. "Uhm, this "grocery list" you gave me... besides the ammo, meds, gun parts and food supplies, why is it so full of junk?"

"Junk?" Kryger feigned ignorance. "Care to elaborate, Mr. Garvey?"

The Minuteman took a knee, set down his personal knapsack and pulled out a half-rotten piece of wood with tiny chalk markings engraved on its surface.

"See here, it says that should I find these items being sold, I should trade for them: Abraxo-brand cleaning agents, wonderglue, alarm clocks, bits of aluminum scrap, ceramic bowls, broken biometric scanners and even microscopes, telephones, typewriters and dinner trays. I can't help but ask... what do you need these things for? I don't see any use for them out in the wastes."

Kryger saw the question coming just as he was writing down the list hours ago. "Not many people know the true value of discarded bits of wasteland junk. Tell you what, bring me those things I've written down, and I'll let you see just how useful I can make them, given enough time."

"If you say so, major." Preston stood up, though he still sounded a bit skeptical.

Kryger nodded. "Anything else?"

"Hey, um..." Piper slowly raised a hand, though she seemed uncertain. "Can one of you guys like, come over to my house in the afternoon? I'm going to speed-write some of the stuff we've been through in the Commonwealth, and I need someone to help with the writing. Maybe some revision and proofreading, too."

Preston crossed his arms. "Why don't you have Natalie do it?"

"Pfft, Nat usually has _me_ proofread what she writes." Piper scoffed, waving a hand. "Besides, having been personally out there to witness _exactly_ what I'm writing about, anyone in this company would make for a good editor."

"Hmph, I can't think of any reason why anyone would actively _want_ to waste their time doing pointless, inane things with people like _you,_ Reporter Wright." Olin, rather nonchalantly, worded out.

Piper turned on her heel and glared at Olin, looking indignant and beyond annoyed. Before she could fire off her own caustic remarks, Kryger seized the moment.

"Olin, after we're done with the repairs, I'm "volunteering" you to work with Ms. Wright as an editor for her paper."

"I _beg_ your _pardon,_ major." The senior scribe's reaction was instantantaneous. Her shoulders tensed up as she turned around; with the smirk she once sported disappearing completely. "I'd sooner shoot my own foot rather than spend even a _minute_ —!"

"That wasn't a request, senior scribe." Kryger cut her off. He paused for a second before adding, "Codsworth, why don't you come visit Publick Occurences later today? I need someone I can trust to make sure these two won't kill each other before we leave the city."

"You can always count on me, sir!" The Mister Handy chirped.

"You... are a wicked man, Major Kryger." Olin shook her head disapprovingly. She spoke no more, but she clearly did not look forward to being near both a woman she loathed and a sentient machine for an extended period of time.

"For once, I agree with you." Piper folded her arms across her chest as she looked to Kryger. "I don't think this is wise, Green. Seriously, Blondie here can do whatever she likes, just not in my house."

"Noted." The major kept impassive. "If that's all, then we should really get going."

The company spent another minute discussing their plans before splitting off toward their own corner of Diamond City... though not before handing over their bags, satchels and backpacks filled with assorted loot for Preston sell off.

Before long, Kryger, Codsworth, Olin and Curie managed to set themselves up a makeshift repair bay in a deserted, northwestern corner of the city, adjacent to the green walls.

As for Preston, he took a deep breath, mustered his resolved and started bartering with Myrna at her surplus store.

Piper — after making sure her sister wasn't hurt in the synth attack — got into her office, pulled up a seat and immediately went to typewriting all about the company's journey thus far.

Both Paulson and Dogmeat were nowhere to be found.

After setting down their tools and commandeering the use of a public workbench, Kryger and Olin went about with the repairs on Codsworth and Curie. Olin figured she was one of the best in the Brotherhood when it came to fixing robots and machinery, but she usually always had the resources needed to do such nearby, generously provided by scavenging field scribes such as Haylen. That day, however, the team clearly lacked the raw materials to even begin the repairs, and as astute and proficient as she was, Olin knew she couldn't exactly rectify any issues on the two robots without enough of the goods she needed.

The senior scribe was just about to speak up and let the major know of the problem she perceived, but he managed to utter out first,

"We need more steel... aluminum, too." He stared at the inactive forms of both Codsworth and Curie, a hand to his chin and a thoughtful look to his face. "Hm, and if we want to finish the retrofits, we need ceramics, some rubber, plastics, three meters of raw circuitry and nuclear material."

Olin looked bemused. "In... deed..." She shook her head and cleared her throat. "Ehem, how do you propose we acquire the resources we need? I fear that without them, we can't begin our work."

Kryger did not answer, but instead, he looked around. They were standing at a T-junction, right near the partially-painted walls that protected the settlement from outside threats. Nearby were scattered bits of assorted junk, a fully-occupied but disused motorcycle rack, an abandoned, rusted-out National Guard M42 half-track parked near the wall, a dead, partially-cannibalized Mister Gutsy robot, and a sun-baked children's playground. All in all, the area was remarkably dirty and overflowing with garbage, and it wouldn't surprise the major if the area was treated like a junkyard by the locals.

"Perfect." Kryger sauntered over to the motorcycle rack. "Let's get to work, Olin. Strip these for parts... salvage whatever we can. We'll put them to better use."

Olin gave him a wide-eyed, baffled look. "What? Surely you can't be—"

The words died in her mouth after witnessing the major prying a motorcycle's gas tank loose with his bare hands. Softly muttering a curse, the senior scribe packed up her tools and ran off to assist her sole surviving paragon.

* * *

 **The _Prydwen_ , Adams AFB**

"Hey, uh, lady sentinel! Over here!"

Winters stopped on her tracks and looked to her side, whereupon she saw Veronica the Mojave liaison running across a hallway and pushing aside crewmen in an effort to greet her.

"Santangelo." The sentinel evenly received the other woman as she arrived, but said nothing more. Her strained tone-of-voice and the noticeable thousand-yard stare she sported were worth a hundred words by themselves.

"Hey..." The hooded senior scribe sheepishly rubbed the back of her head. "I just heard about that mission the Pride last took... I'm sorry about what happened, for what it's worth."

"What's done is done." Winters probably never intended to make her voice sound aggravated and bitter, but she was too tired to care. "Don't get me wrong, I do feel terrible... but I can do nothing more for Dusk."

"Yeah... I know how you feel." Veronica frowned, recalling the years she spent and the adventures she had with him in the Mojave. It saddened her that after ten years, she still felt her stomach churn when remembering those times, and how they're gone for good.

Still, Veronica tried to always look on the bright side of life. It was one of the things he taught her before he was abruptly taken before his time.

"If it makes the both of us feel any better, why don't you come join me at lunch, then? I always wanted to hear more about the Pride... you were legends even further west in the Mojave, you know?"

Sentinel Winters briefly considered the offer. "Ah, thanks for the concern... but I've been summoned to report to Elder Maxson at the Command Deck. Apparently, he's finally managed to round up some volunteers to replace the losses the Pride has sustained over the years."

"Oh? That's great news, then." Veronica smiled wanly. "I'm sure things would turn up for the best in time, sister. Some other time, then."

Winters smiled back and nodded stiffly. "Yeah, maybe I'll take up your offer tomorrow, when I've got time. Ad victoriam, senior scribe." She saluted.

"Ad victoriam...?" Veronica returned the East Coast salute, but hers needed work.

Winters coughed and continued walking down the halls, and soon, she arrived at her destination. Quietly entering through the door to the _Prydwen's_ Command Deck, the sentinel was greeted by the sight of Elder Maxson standing at his usual spot, with his back turned to her, and his gaze focused on the Brotherhood-held airfield down below. By his side was a serving tray lined with various drinks, ranging from cheap whiskey, to the finest pre-war wine.

"Sentinel." Maxson crisply greeted Winters as he turned around. "I callied for you, but I did not expect you to come so early." The elder scooped the wine bottle he had been drinking out of and poured its liquid contents into a matching pair of drinking glasses. "Help yourself. I know you need it."

"Thanks." Winters walked over to Maxson. To his credit, he did not look surprised in the least when she ignored the wine completely, favoring the unopened bottle of Nuka-Cola on the tray. "Let's get down to business. Who did you assign to replace my losses?"

"Hmh," Maxson took a sip of wine. Slowly. "Lest you forget, Elise, your losses are for the entire Brotherhood to share. But... I concur, we should talk less about the past and focus more on matters of greater import."

Winters crossed her arms, intermittently taking draughts out of her drink. "I'm all ears, sir."

The elder set down his glass. His eyes were still on the sentinel as he bent down and picked up a folder visibly bulging with paper from his tray of drinks.

"This folder contains two dossiers of the volunteers I've hand-picked for the Pride." Maxson handed over the folder from his keeping to Winters'.

"One of them should fit in nicely as Knight-Commander Colvin's new spotter, and she should prove to be sufficiently skilled as a pathfinder as well. As for the other... well, I believe you already know more about him than I do."

The sentinel inclined a brow as she skimmed through the paragraphs of meaningless, bureaucratic text. She only stopped when she found a single glimpse of clarity within the incomprehensible mess of typewritten letters.

"Paladin Siiri Penttilä." Winters recited the strange name that crossed her eyes; she was certain she mispronounced it somehow. Next to the name was a picture of a black-haired woman's expressionless face, with noticeable scars and burns marring her distinctly Nordic features.

"Quite the unusual name for a paladin, wouldn't you agree?" Maxson said as he turned around, looking back to the window overlooking the airfield below the zeppelin.

"Paladin Siiri is a transfer from the Northern Ronto Chapter. Before she joined our ranks, she is told to have come from a land beyond the eastern sea and much further up north, where the sun is rarely seen... since winter never ends. The conditions she had to endure growing up had hardened her enough that the high elder himself considers her one of the best scouts at his disposal."

Maxson looked over his shoulder. "And now, she is yours to command. She'd be of great use to you."

"I'll be the judge of that." Winters seemed skeptical. She flipped to another page, read the print and was shocked to see a picture of a face she recognized... most dearly, in fact.

"You _cannot_ be serious..." She muttered, tracing a metallic finger over the picture.

Elder Maxson smirked, nodding. "I've a feeling you'd like to have him on your team."

"Oh, you." Winters smiled as she continued reading the dossier, genuinely this time.

For a brief while, thinking about the fact that an old friend of hers would soon come to join the Pride almost made Winters forget that a much older friend had just recently perished in battle, and right in front of her own eyes, no less. She was quick to squelch this line of thinking, however.

"Looks like my request for a competent medic in the Pride finally worked out, and I couldn't have asked for a better man than Elliott Tercorien! Hah, I _never_ thought he'd finally leave the safety of his workplace."

Maxson uneasily shifted at that. "Yes... Scribe Tercorien has always preferred to avoid field assignments whenever he could, and I think it's strange that he volunteered to work under you, considering where you usually spend most of your time."

Winters closed the folder and tucked it under her arm. "I suppose I should thank you for this. Elliott is a good friend of mine."

"There's no need for that. I'm only doing what I should, as your elder." Maxson said. "Although... there is one task I'd like to order Recon Squad Diomedes to undertake later this day, but I think it'll suit the newly-reinforced Lyons' Pride much better."

Winters briefly considered it. As a Brotherhood sentinel, she knew Maxson couldn't order her around, but since she felt she owed him, she stood up straight and made to listen.

"Tell me all about this "task", sir."

Elder Maxson seemed pleased. "This one concerns a missing scout patrol. Tell me, Elise, have you heard about Recon Squad Artemis' disappearance in the Commonwealth?"

* * *

 **Diamond City**

Hours passed as Kryger and Olin kept up with their duties. Together, the two of them managed to almost completely strip the area clean of the eyesore-inducing clutter, thereafter they worked in concert with one another in breaking them down for components, raw materials and other resources for use during the repairs.

Dusk was rapidly approaching over Diamond City, and the repairs were very nearly finished. Work had flowed very smoothly and enjoyably for Kryger and Olin, so much so that they scarcely noticed the hours quickly going by.

"...so you're telling me, the president this "Enclave" the Brotherhood fought ten years ago actually planned to poison the Capital Wasteland's water supply, intending to wipe the region clean of anyone supposedly "impure" in his eyes?" Kryger secured a panel on Curie's central housing, sealing it in with a few twists of his hex key.

"Impure in _its_ eyes, Major Kryger. President Eden wasn't human, but rather, a sophisticated and extremely dangerous artificial intelligence, housed within an advanced pre-war supercomputer." Olin attached Codsworth's sawblade arm and manually made it swing around a few times in an arc. "Thankfully, before the Enclave could execute their plan, the Brotherhood narrowly put a stop to it. Eden's soldiers defended the purifier with misguided courage and tenacity, but Elder Lyons' troops triumphed over them in the end."

The senior scribe visibly smiled at the memory as she stared off into the distance, her grip on her torque wrench slackening. "I remember Protector Casdin's surprise upon hearing the news... though it was only until Arthur Maxson took over as elder that he started to seriously consider rejoining the Brotherhood..."

"Arthur Maxson?" Kryger initialized a reboot of Curie's systems.

"Hmm?" Olin still seemed unfocused when she turned to Kryger. After quickly gathering her wits, she thumped her own forehead. "Oh! How dreadfully thoughtless of me. I almost forgot to tell you about Elder Maxson!"

"Let me guess..." Kryger wiped his brow. "Is he one of Roger's descendants?"

Olin nodded eagerly, setting her tools down. "Yes! The last one, actually. Elder Maxson really turned things around for the Brotherhood; under Lyons, it was dangerously close to collapsing due to his tender-hearted weakness and general incompetence. With Maxson in charge, the Brotherhood's East Coast detachment surged rapidly in both number and strength — enough that our decadent, misguided foes in the NCR have started to consider us to be more than a mere annoyance."

"I see." Kryger already knew he wasn't about to get an unbiased description of the Brotherhood's elusive leader from one of his underlings, so he just smiled and turned most of his attention back to his work. "He certainly sounds like... an interesting sort. Maybe I'll get to meet him in the flesh one day."

"Oh, you _will_ , James." Olin said. "Sooner or later, you'll come to meet with our elder... it's either that, or he'll come to meet you himself."

"Hmh." The major shrugged. "Alright, we're almost done. How's Codsworth doing?"

Olin quickly checked. "Systems are stable, with only minimal corruption on some of the cached data. I say, this Mister Handy unit has seen some _very_ extensive retrofitting and custom work... more so than any other of its kind I've ever seen."

" _His_ kind, senior scribe." The major tersely corrected her before going on with the matter at hand.

"Whenever I'm on leave, I bring home some junk I managed to salvage from the Mister Gutsies and sentry bots destroyed in the line of duty. If it could fit Codsworth's central frame and his programming could accommodate it, it never could hurt trying to apply it to him."

Olin seemed impressed, looking intently at Kryger with those upturned blue orbs of hers. "And why would you need military-grade upgrades for Codsworth? Did your neighbors find it strange that you're outfitting a robotic manservant for war?"

"It's not _any_ of their goddamn business, but of course they did... and not just because I'm a Polack." There was a hint of resentment to the major's tone.

"Despite what the neighbours thought, I _do_ have legitimate reasons. Just when the war started heating up, I often worried about the Chinese invading Boston with paratroopers or proper landing troops, what with how close it is to the sea. In the event that they actually _did_ , and I'm away at the time for certain reasons, I programmed Codsworth to guide and protect my family throughout the invasion."

His voice took a darker, more deliberate turn. "I've seen... what the PLA did to the people living in territories they've occupied. Heh, after _all_ those _years_ ," He looked down and sighed harshly. "Urgh, it's all the same where I was posted — Thailand, Indonesia, the Philippines, and even the Soviet Far East. Men were tortured before being executed, women were... were defiled _,_ and some were murdered right after. Don't even get me started on what happened to _children_."

Kryger looked more and more agitated as he continued, "Villages were completely depopulated and burned down, entire cities were looted and the earth was scoured of what little natural resources left, and those who resisted the Chinese advance were impaled on stakes and left to bake in the sun, to serve as an example, if nothing else. Seeing these things during my tours... made me paranoid. I don't want anything like _that_ happening to my family. Nobody would."

And with that said, Kryger once more got back to work, leaving Olin alone to ruminate on his words.

"...I actually thought those pre-war propaganda posters all over the wasteland exaggerated how heinous the Chinese could be," The senior scribe spoke up after a moment spent in silence. "I mean, did the PLA really disembowel pregnant women with swords before impaling the still-breathing, underdeveloped infant on stakes planted on the ground? Heavens above, I had thought American propagandists had such morbid creativity to invent such atrocities in order to demonize their foes."

"They exaggerated quite a lot, sure," Kryger continued working, not even pausing to look at the scribe. "But they had to take their ideas from _somewhere._ And believe me, Olin, there's no better source material than the things soldiers like me got to see with our own eyes."

The major grumbled, clearly tired of having to recall all those unpleasant sights. "How about we shift the subject to something else? I intend to keep my lunch where it belongs."

"Ah, of course." Olin nodded, clearing her thoughts. "Hm, you just mentioned having been to Soviet territory... and if I'm not mistaken, your files from the Citadel did not mention you having been anywhere near Russia for the entirety of your career..."

In an instant, Kryger's gaze snapped to Olin. "Did I say that?"

"Yes, you did. The Soviet "Far East", to be more precise."

Kryger's face brightened up at the memory. "Oh... well, the government kept this one off the books. Officially, my unit _wasn't_ involved in a joint US-Soviet defensive operation against Chinese forces. I didn't get the whole story, and my men got even less, but I think the reason why we were even fighting another country's battle on its behalf is because our secretary of defense at the time owed the Soviet premier a favor."

The senior scribe seemed thrilled to hear of something new she did not know about the paragon. "I'm listening."

The man shrugged. "Anyway, since the brass knew I'm a polyglot _and_ Slavic, they assigned my power armored unit to work under a Russian colonel-general, along with several others. In summary, we bunkered with Soviets, got to know them better, defended half a dozen cities along the Russian-Korean border, froze half to death in the winter, pushed the "bad" commies out of the country, bid the "good" commies goodbye... and went back home."

"Heh," The edge of Kryger's lips twisted upward, making a half-smile. "We got along with the Soviets so well, some of us actually got awards from the Kremlin for our trouble." His gaze shifted down toward the considerable amount of service ribbons sown into his uniform and indicated at a particular one at middle of the very bottom row.

"The Soviet head of state gave me this: the Order of the Red Star." He said, sounding proud despite himself.

Olin squinted, examining the ribbon. It did not look very flattering compared to the other ones at the upper rows, being only a dark red field in a moiré pattern with a solitary silver stripe cutting a path down the middle.

"How very unusual..." She feigned interest.

"More than you know." Kryger nodded, seemingly oblivious to her indifference. "This one's normally awarded _only_ to Soviet personnel, but the premier pulled strings for us to be considered as such. I'm actually very flattered — she appreciated what we did, and even if it was just for appearance's sake, I still appreciate the gestu..."

"Major?" Arching a brow, Olin implored Kryger to continue. For some reason, he suddenly stopped mid-sentence. "Something wrong—"

"Shh." Kryger suddenly held up two fingers at Olin.

"You hear that?" He whispered to her. Olin removed her hands from Codsworth's chassis, wiped them clean of lubricant and looked around, listening in for sounds. While she was not as perceptive as the major to pick up what he was hearing immediately, indeed, it was only a little later until she heard muted footsteps marching in concert with one another, slowly treading closer to their position.

Kryger also took his hands from Curie's internal workings, though he already started reaching for his laser pistol. "I think we're about to have some company, and not the good kind."

After a while, a large group of local settlers had appeared into sight, brandishing mostly improvised weaponry such as lead pipes and baseball bats. Quickly doing a mental count, Kryger saw that they numbered at twenty four.

"Here he is!" One of the settlers at the forefront, a girl barely out of her teens, pointed an accusing finger at Kryger. "That's him! Wright _really_ wasn't talking shit!"

"That's him, alright!" Kryger was surprised to see Myrna herself among the settlers. But then again, she hadn't really made any effort to mask her paranoid, rabidly anti-synth personality.

"Is that so...?" Another of them, a hulking, jian-wielding, visibly muscular lout wearing dirty wasteland leathers, cursorily examined the major before drawing his blade from its sheath. He was obviously the leader of this group. "Alright, boys... form up. Come on, y'know the fucking drill."

Kryger and Olin warily stood their ground as the crowd dispersed, forming themselves into a rough circle in an effort to bodily obstruct every exit available.

"Halt! Don't come any closer!" Kryger made his move, training his weapon at the settlers as they slowly closed in around his squad. It did not take long for Olin to do the same with her laser shotgun. "I'm warning you! One more step and I'll shoot! State your business!"

"Our business? Hah!" One of them laughed as he hefted the sledgehammer in his grasp in a threatening manner. "You made the last mistake of your synthetic life, tin can! We know _what_ you are, and who you _really_ work fo—!"

Kryger made good on his promise. He lowered his aim and fired a single laser pulse at the man's leg, causing him to quickly drop his weapon and double over on the ground, gasping in pain while clutching at the exposed, severely-burnt flesh.

In shock at what happened, the crowd immediately stopped advancing as they hesitated. The brief amount of relief he was given proved enough for Kryger, as by the time the angry settlers decided to commit to a full-on charge, he and Olin had already reactivated both Codsworth and Curie.

"Good evening, sir!" Codsworth piped up as he rebooted. "What can I— bloody hell!"

"I am most confused. What is happening?" Curie's trio of mechadendrites whirled around, as if she couldn't decide which one she should use.

Kryger kept his barrel leveled over the settlers, which had thankfully stopped advancing once more with the robots' activation. "Nothing important, just some idiots who think I'm a goddamn synth. Again."

"I resent that remark!" The senior scribe shot the major a brief glare.

"We don't _think_ , we KNOW you're a fucking synth!" The anti-synth mob leader shouted, trying to look more intimidating by showing off his sword by randomly swishing it in the air. To an experienced swordsman like Kryger, however, he only made his amateurish skill with the blade a lot more obvious. "Everyone's seen your ugly mug on those posters all over the Commonwealth; there's _no_ goddamn way an old ghost like you can still be up and about without turning into a ghoul!"

"Yeah!" Myrna pushed herself at the front of the crowd. "I always knew you were up to no good the moment you showed up in my store! I'm a—"

"Paranoid lunatic?" Olin brusquely cut in, pointing her laser shotgun at the older woman. "Why, yes. Most _evidently_ so."

Myrna's face scrunched up in visibly rage. "And who the hell are _you,_ then? Probably another one of those synth-humping Railroad spooks! Bah, people like you disgust me! How can you stand betraying your own race to _them!_ " She angrily pointed to Kryger.

"Hah." Olin smirked. "A synth sympathizer is the last thing I am, citizen."

Kryger let out an exasperated groan. Turning to look at the mob leader, he said, "Didn't Piper already made it clear in her paper? I was frozen by Vault-Tec over those centuries! Hell, I never even knew the Institute existed until she told me about it!"

"The difference between us and Wright is that we ain't stupid and naive enough to believe robots like you!" Another of the crowd shouted. "There's only one real way to find out if you're _really_ one of 'em, and that's through what's inside you, soldier-boy! We're gonna cut you open and see if there's metal inside!"

"Yeah!"

"Exactly! That's it!"

"Come on, boys! Let's cut him open!"

The rabid anti-synth crowd started chanting as they advanced, hoisting their weapons high. Kryger and Olin exchanged a look before the major put a hand on Codsworth's chassis, just as Curie silently brought out her defensive laser mechadendrite. No words were said between the four of them, but a grim message was conveyed all the same

They were going to have to crack a few skulls and perhaps even kill a few, but hopefully, whatever passes for authority in the city would understand. It was all in self-defense.

Just as Kryger was about to order a pre-emptive assault on the settlers, a flying brick soared through the air and smashed itself against the mob leader square across the face, knocking him out cold as it shattered to pieces from the sheer force of the impact.

"Bastards!"

Everyone looked up to see a tall, rather thickset man standing on the roof of a nearby shelter, holding an RPD light machine gun in his grip. He was flanked by four other well-armed settlers.

"These people are under protection of Bobrov brothers now!" The newcomer's voice was set in a very heavy Russian brogue. He theatrically waved his free arm around, making shooing motions with it. "I have big gun and many strong friends! If you value your lives, you will leave! Immediately!"

"Fuck off, Vadim!"

"Yeah, this ain't none of your business! Don't start what you can't finish!"

"Watcha gonna do, Russian? We outnumber you thirty-two to five!"

The man, apparently called Vadim, ignored the other settlers' unimaginative taunting and put his thumb and index finger inside his mouth. Inhaling sharply, he blew out a powerful whistle.

The only warning the anti-synth crowd got before they were accosted by a second group of gun-wielding settlers was the sound of rifles being cocked. A tense standoff between the three groups briefly erupted, but only after a little while did the anti-synth crowd acknowledge the fact that while they still outnumbered Vadim's group as well as Kryger's squad, they unfortunately lacked the weapons to take on their more heavily-equipped foes.

"You'll fucking regret this, Bobrov!"

One by one, the anti-synth crowd walked away from the scene until not one of them was left. When the coast was clear, Kryger stashed his pistol away and relaxed. Sighing, he steadied himself to face his squad's erstwhile savior.

"Thanks a lot for that, stranger. For a second there, I thought we'd have to resort to violence." He said as Vadim approached.

"Not to worry, comrade!" The Russian grinned widely.

"My brother Yefim and I have heard much of you through Publick Occurences, and unlike most other people in this city, we believed what Piper wrote in her paper! We know her too well — we _know_ she is not one to write lies and fanciful tales like Ministry of Enlightenment back home!"

"Ah, but where are my manners?" The man laughed, extending a burly hand for the major to take. "I am Vadim Nikolaevich Bobrov, owner of cozy place Dugout Inn, and unofficial leader of local ex-Soviet citizens' fellowship. It is great pleasure to finally put face to name, Major Kryger!"

Before Kryger could so much as speak, Vadim had turned to his comrades and started excitedly introducing them to Kryger one by one. From their names alone it was clear that they were all from Eastern Europe... much like the major himself.

"This is Pyotr from Chukotka," A heavily-scarred man wearing a tattered black coat and a woolen cap slung his battered Kalashnikov over his shoulder and stoically nodded.

"Adrijana from New Yugoslavia," A younger-looking woman extinguished her primed molotov cocktail, disposed of the half-burnt rag and toasted her bottle at Kryger. She then quickly started drinking from out of it.

"Yuliya from Novgorod," A pale, middle-aged woman packing a modified PPSh-43 in her hands tipped her ushanka and smirked.

"Marko from Tropoja..." A tall man with wild, curly black hair holstered his revolver and grunted dismissively.

Vadim stopped to give Marko a pointed glance, though his smile held up. "You must do the cheering up more, Albanian!" He then continued with his introductions. "Ehem, where did Vadim left off? Ah! And here is..."

The Russian innkeep's lengthy introductions of his friends had gone on for more than ten minutes. Kryger tried his best to look as attentive as possible, which wasn't hard, considering that this group of peculiar people were some of the most colorful he had seen. Olin, however, had to catch herself a few times before she could start yawning.

"Now that we are all acquainted," Vadim heaved a breath of air. "I believe I should take you both in before it is getting further dark, yes? You must be very tired after working all day fixing robot friends! Ha ha!"

Kryger arched a brow. He held up an arm, rolled up his sleeve and looked to his Polish watch. Aside from the date being permanently capped at the 30th of December 2200, the time seemed to function as normal. He was somewhat surprised to find out that he and Olin had been working on the robots for six hours straight, and it was already four hours past his squad's scheduled departure at 2:00 PM.

He hissed out an oath. "I think we got a little carried away back there, Olin. We need to find the others; we've already wasted enough time as it is."

Olin walked up behind Kryger and opened her mouth as if to say something, but she instead cut herself off with an involuntary yawn, causing a chain reaction of yawning on some of the ex-Soviets.

"Ah, how unfortunate. It seems we found our work a little too enjoyable." She smirked. "Alas, some things did not go according to your plans, major. I do so hope Reporter Wright did not notice my absence in her home overmuch."

Kryger cursed again. He had completely forgotten to let Olin and Codsworth go and help out with Piper's work, much to the senior scribe's visible relief. Before the major could even tell her she wasn't off the hook just yet, however, Vadim boisterously clapped a burly hand behind his shoulder. When he did the same to Olin, she flinched at the force he applied.

"Dugout Inn is good place for rest!" The man excitedly proclaimed. "You are good comrades with Paulson and Piper, yes? I remember seeing their faces there, and it is best that you join with them! Come, it is only short way from here!"

"If that's where they are now, then that's where we're headed, I suppose." Kryger looked behind his shoulder, to Codsworth and Curie. "Let's move it out, squad. We'll redraw our plans from this... inn."

"Of course, sir." Codsworth chirped, with a noticeable jaunt in his "steps".

"As you say, monsieur." Curie followed after the Mister Handy.

* * *

 **US Air Force Personnel Emergency Muster Point 4, Adams AFB**

"Elliott." A faint smile crept upon Sentinel Winters' face as she received one of her newest recruits for the Pride. "It's definitely been a while, hasn't it, iceman?"

"Too much of a while, Elise." Scribe Tercorien, in contrast, grinned quite openly. Despite this, his body language seemed nervous... likely because of his agoraphobia. "How's life been treating you? I've heard you don't take orders from the elder no more, being a sentinel and all."

"Sometimes it's great, sometimes it sucks. The usual." The sentinel shrugged, shaking her head. Before Tercorien could speak more, Winters subtly leaned over to him, her mouth drawing close to his ear.

"The ship." She whispered. "Please tell me you're not stepping up for the Pride just to tell me it's been discovered."

Tercorien visibly paled as he shook his head. "No, no, of course not! It— it's still safe... h-hidden." He breathed out nervously. "You and I both made sure of that, remember? Nothing's changed, as far as I kn-know."

"Hm..." Winters withdrew. "That's nice to hear, iceman." She then cleared her throat and shook her head. "Anyway, since you've... volunteered to be one of us, I think it's time you get finally acquainted with the rest of the Pride. Star Paladin Glade, can you take Elliott here for a tour of the crew?"

Glade let out a theatrical sigh through his helmet's external speakers as he stepped forth. Gripping Tercorien's shoulder with his gauntlet, he said, "Right, pretty boy, you're coming with me. How many times have you been out in the field?"

The scribe nervously laughed as he was not-so-subtly dragged away by the star paladin, to be introduced to the rest of the old Pride. With Tercorien out of the way, Winters turned on her heel and finally mustered the courage to speak to her other recruit, the enigmatic pathfinder paladin from far north, Siiri.

As the sentinel looked her way, Siiri immediately diverted her own gaze from the _Prydwen_ in the sky and settled it down to her new commanding officer. For several uncomfortable seconds, the paladin kept that way — staring, gauging. Winters, despite herself, couldn't help but feel a little unnerved at Siiri's piercing scrutiny; her pallid blue eyes, unsightly scars and the weathered M40A5 bolt-action rifle strapped to her back certainly did not help.

"Welcome to the Pride... sister." Winters started, unsure of what to say. "As you should already know, I'm Winters."

After another second spent in silence, Paladin Siiri nodded. "Yes... your performance during the Jefferson Memorial Siege earned you a place in the Codex, I've heard."

Her voice was softer than Winters imagined, though she kept a crisp, professional air to it— much like a proper soldier. "For all intents and purposes, sentinel, you're a celebrity not just among the Brotherhood, but for the entire wasteland."

"Heh, something like that." Winters couldn't help but smile. She always liked being recognized. "Anyway, did Arthur tell you all about the mission we're about to undertake? In the Commonwealth, I mean."

"The elder was most punctual." Siiri returned the smile, though hers was colder, less sincere. "We are to take a vertibird to the Commonwealth, survey our surroundings for clues as to the whereabouts of Paladin Brandis' advance team, organize a rescue attempt for any survivors from Artemis, and bring them back home safely if possible. Is this the gist of it?"

"More or less." Winters crossed her power armored arms, clinking them together in place.

Speaking of power armor, Winters had just started to focus on how Siiri was not encased in one, merely being clothed in a Brotherhood soldier's field jumpsuit, armor and gear. "Have you everything you need? We leave for our objective first thing in the morning tomorrow, in case you're unaware. If you need a proper suit, I'm sure Proctor Ingram can supply you with a spare suit of T-60b—"

"I prefer to take to the field wearing light equipment, sentinel." The pathfinder interrupted her. "And trust me... I won't ever need one of those things weighing me down."

Winters shrugged; Vargas and Gallows back in the day used to eschew power armor when they thought it appropriate, and she was already quite adept at leading light infantry. From the looks of things, Tercorien seemed to prefer being in his poorly-armored scribe robes just as well. "Hmh. Your call, sister."

* * *

 **Diamond City, the Commonwealth**

"Welcome, welcome all!"

Vadim seemed every bit like a good host. The boisterous Russian ushered Kryger, Olin, Curie and Codsworth inside the Dugout Inn, which seemed every bit like the pubs Kryger had used to visit with his men back during his deployment to the Soviet Union. There was even a little jukebox in the corner that played a jaunty, distinctly Hungarian tune.

"Please, take seats! Make yourselves at home!"

Vadim gestured at the empty tables in the establishment. Kryger noted that there were only few, given how occupied it was. Looking around, he could see plenty of people with noticeable Soviet features. Most seemed Slavic like himself, but there were plenty of Magyars and Finno-Ugric individuals as well. There were a few obvious Diamond City locals here and there which included the waitress, but clearly, the inn was overwhelmingly populated with Vadim's kind of people.

"Green!" Kryger was halfway across taking a seat when he heard Piper's voice. Craning his head to the direction of it, he saw her sitting at one of the tables along with Paulson and Dogmeat. Save for Preston, the other half of the team was there. "Over here!"

Olin, as usual, seemed less than impressed. "I suppose it's out of the question to ignore Reporter Wright, major? Yes, I believe it's best if we just _pretended_ she did not exist." She seemed sarcastic, though only partly.

"Tsk, tsk. There's no need for that." Codsworth said, with only a hint of subtle disapproval in his voice.

"Why would we pretend one of our own does not exist? It seems rather... counterproductive to our group's integrity." Curie innocently observed.

The senior scribe looked behind her shoulder and frowned. "Because she already _is_ counterproductive not just to our unit integrity, but to the success of my—" She forced out a cough. "— _our_ cause."

"Truly? Ms. Wright has contributed nothing but good to our endeavor thus far." Codsworth's usual aristocratic, polite tone-of-voice seemed distinctly more barbed now. "She's been in this company for much longer than you, need I add."

Olin's frown quickly turned into a scowl; she already had a caustic retort in store — she wouldn't had hesitated to respond to Codsworth in kind if it weren't for Kryger's presence. Upon looking back ahead, however, the senior scribe was surprised to see the major gone from her side; he was already seated by the table offered to him by the reporter, looking as comfortable as could be among the wastelanders as if they were his battle-brothers.

The sight soured Olin's mood quite a bit. After all those hours she spent subtly trying to influence Kryger in order to make him see and think like the Brotherhood paragon he was, she really did thought she was getting through to his stoic, unrelentingly "professional" facade; she did not think that he would abandon her to _them_ as quickly as he just did.

"Well, there's no use milling around here." Codsworth's voice snagged the senior scribe back to reality. "Come, we must rejoin with the other half of our company."

Meanwhile, at his corner, Kryger was busy skimming through the thick stack of potential Publick Occurences content Piper had unceremoniously dumped into his reluctant keeping. With fifteen full pages containing nothing but his company's recent adventures throughout the wastes, it was clear that the young reporter had a talent for churning out an extreme amount of words into paper within a relatively short amount of time.

"Looks good," The major put the stack down on the table, looking back up to the expectant faces waiting on him from across his seat. "Besides a couple of typos here and there, I don't see any glaring issues. You're leaving this to your sister to publish, right?"

"Yep, Nat's got it covered." The reporter nodded, pausing to think a bit. "Now that that's out of the way, what do you think of the quality of my writing? How does it compare to the press from before the war?"

Kryger blinked, remembering his wife's own stack of paperwork on her desk, left for him to proofread.

"...You know, I'm actually surprised at how impartial you made those reports; everything you wrote in here was exactly what happened out there, more or less. I half-expected it to be full of... strong language... and bias against the Brotherhood."

"I'm trying to write the _truth_ , Green, _not_ my own brand of propaganda." Kryger mentally winced at the look of genuine offense Piper shot his way. "All reporters have their own views, sure, but good reporters don't dilute the truth by using the press as a mouthpiece for whatever they have in mind."

"I know," He sighed, frowning slightly. Even though she was a photojournalist, Kathérine would have said as such. "Sorry, I meant no disrespect."

Piper threw up her hands in a nonchalant "don't worry about it" manner, and Kryger took the awkward silence that followed as his cue to press on to more important matters of note.

"All this... truthful reporting's all well and good, but did you know that Olin and I were attacked by a mob of settlers in the city?" The major anticipated how Paulson and Piper quickly focused all their attention to him, the former out of surprise and curiosity, and the latter more out of concern. "Apparently, they read your interview about me, and like the Danse's squad, came down to the same conclusion."

Paulson drained a shot and wiped his mouth. "Did'ja kill 'em?"

"It almost came to that." Olin supplied. "Thankfully, those settlers never got to pay the price for their stupidity."

All color seemed to drain out of Piper's face. "Aw, jeez, I didn't mean for something like _that_ to happen when I published that interview. How did you get out of that mess?"

Kryger opened his mouth to respond, but was promptly silenced when Vadim Bobrov himself appeared by their table, and beside him was another man that looked almost exactly like him, only with a stoic frown, a small scar gracing his lip, and a tattered three-piece suit to distinguish him from the more rugged-looking Russian.

"Major James Kryger, this is Yefim, my twin brother!" Vadim, ever-smiling, introduced the other, more refined-looking man to Kryger. "As I have said, we both have heard of your story through Publick Occurences, and by God, what a story it is!"

Yefim nodded slightly as he looked to the major. "Indeed. We wanted to see you for ourselves, in person. Do tell us — is it true that you've seen what it was like before the war?"

The major noted the contrast between the twins; compared to his brother, Yefim spoke more natural-sounding English, was noticeably lankier, and seemed distant and less animated when speaking.

"Yes..." Kryger nodded. "Thirty years of it, to be more exact." He then turned to Vadim. "Also, thanks again for the assist back there. Things could've gone a lot uglier if you didn't show up."

Vadim beamed as Yefim made a grunt of approval. "It is nothing. As long as we could, we take it upon ourselves to help our Slavic brothers, those seeking refuge from the Kremlin, and those who are simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. I believe you fit two out of three of those things I've said."

"The Kremlin?" Kryger shot Yefim an odd look. "The Soviet Union's still around?"

Yefim's frown turned a lot more sour, for some reason. "Unlike your United States, yes. The Union yet lives despite the amount of nukes it took, mainly because the Party's leadership was not as centralized as most of the world's governments back then."

The major took the time to absorb this new information. Finally, he spoke his mind, "You... make that sound like a bad thing. Why are people trying to flee from the Soviet government in the first place?"

Vadim pushed his brother aside, his eyes narrowed down to slits. His smile was gone, replaced by an open-mouthed scowl.

"Because Soviet leader has no tolerance for dissidents, free-thinkers, deserters and those he thought to be enemies of state. If one man says he does not want to fight in Red Army, or shows even slightest opposition to Party policies, he is taken to work in gulag or to fight anyway in shtrafbat... and that is if he is considered lucky!"

The Russian growled, baring his teeth in sheer rage. Olin, Codsworth and Curie slowly backed away, while those who were seated simply had to hold their ground and hope for the best. All were wary of the increasingly agitated man.

"If ministers were in especially bad mood, they have political officers simply shoot man in head, burn house, take away livestock and do terrible things to family to make example to others! We may be at war, but surely there is no need to become like animals!"

"Dima. It is alright." Yefim took his hyperventilating brother by both shoulders and started speaking in soothing Russian. "Listen to me. We are safe... _here_ in the _Commonwealth_. We are beyond their grasp in this contrry, just like mother said."

Slowly but surely, Vadim's anger left him, leaving him looking oddly confused and embarrassed for a large man. "Yes... I remember. We're in America. The commissars... they can't reach us now, brother. _Any_ of _us_. We're... safe."

Kryger felt his mind swimming in legions of unanswered questions. He let his curiosity slip for an unguarded moment.

"Hold on a moment," Without thinking, he spoke in clear, unaccented Russian. By the time he noticed the words were out of his mouth, he thought it too late to stop. "Vadim, you said the Union is at war, didn't you? With whom, might I ask?"

Yefim seemed only mildly startled to hear his mother tongue coming from an obvious foreigner. After a while, he sighed, looking to Kryger while massaging Vadim's shoulder with a hand.

"Please. This is a question that brings us much... discomfort, major. Forgive us if we cannot answer it as this time. Some other time, perhaps?"

Kryger flinched, regretting ever indulging himself. "Of course. Some other time, then."

Yefim nodded again, "Enjoy the rest of your stay here, my friend. If you'll excuse us, I think Dima is in need of a strong drink."

The company observed the twins leave, and an awkward silence between them soon followed. It was brief, however, as it was broken by Codsworth's voice.

"So... what now, sir? I do believe we're here to discuss your plans for the night..." He said.

The major sighed as he spied a glance at his watch. Looking back to his team, he spoke,

"Right, let's get down to business. According to the pip-boy, assuming we encounter minimal amounts of rubble blocking our path, it's only a short walk from here to Park Street Station. If we proceed to our objective _right now_ , we should be able to return before sunrise with Valentine in tow. What do you say?"

He was expecting the miffed looks Piper, Olin and Paulson were giving him, though Codsworth and Curie seemed oddly content. With the way his ears perked up and his eyes gleamed in the shadowy atmosphere of the inn, only Dogmeat seemed truly enthusiastic about his idea.

"Son..." Paulson drained another shot of of his brandy. His hands, for some reason, were slightly shaking. "In case ya haven't noticed, it's already fuckin' late. I reckon we'd do a hell of a lot better at our jobs if we get some rest for the night first."

Piper nodded her agreement. "He's right. You probably already know this— but at night, the ruins around Boston get real crowded with Frankensteins, raiders and murderous assholes in general. Sane people generally let the night pass before heading on out at day. I'd like Nick back as much as the next guy, but there's no use killing ourselves trying to do it in the process."

Kryger exhaled. Adopting a coldly determined look, he began, "I understand your concerns, I really do. But trust me on this, I _know_ what I'm doing." He swept his arm over the team, as if imploring his comrades to examine themselves. "Look at us; counting Dogmeat over here, we're barely larger than an average-sized squad. As an officer, I've personally led entire _battalions_ of—"

"What's a battalion?" Piper chimed in.

"—entire units of several hundred men behind PLA lines during night operations, hidden and undetected until it's too late for the enemy." The major did not even pause for breath, though he did turn to give the reporter an exasperated look. "If I can infiltrate that amount of soldiers into hostile lines, how hard can it be to do it with five people, one dog and two robots?"

This time, he paused to let his words sink in. "Also, ever since that incident at Ackerson Bridge, I've been thinking..." He placed his hands on the table, leaning his weight to it while giving most of the squad appraising looks.

"If you really do want to help me find Shaun, I'd have better uses for you as actual soldiers rather than civilians. The choice is up to you, of course... but if you want to undertake some extra infantry training, I'll be more than happy to get you up to speed. Lord knows I could use a little less time worrying about your safety in a firefight."

"Awww." Piper gave Kryger a cheeky grin. "That's awfully sweet of you — letting us know how _delicate_ and _helpless_ you really think we are, Green."

"Kryger, I 'preciate the concern, but I ain't no pussy." Paulson grumbled unhappily. "I'd rather you spend less time worryin' about me. My eyes ain't as sharp as they were, and my legs're startin' to smart every once in a while... but I can still take care of meself, thank ye very much."

"You're all heart, Paulson." The edge of Kryger's lips curled upward wryly in amusement, but there wasn't a sheen to his eyes, and his voice remained hard and businesslike. "But no, you're not off the hook. You have several hundred years of updated combat tactics to catch up on, assuming what you say about your past is true."

Paulson kept grumbling, but he was otherwise silent after being told off. Curie used this opportunity to get the major's attention.

"Excuse me, Monsieur James," The Miss Nanny held up a mechadendrite, and the major was quick to look over to her, wordlessly imploring her to go on. "Will you and Madam Olin be outfitting my chassis with machine guns and flamethrowers like Monsieur Codsworth here? This may sound silly considering our circumstances and the environment we find ourselves in, but I must admit that I am... hesitant... to end human lives."

She vocalized letting out a breath she was holding. "After all, as a doctor and a surgeon, I made an oath to first, do no harm."

"Oh." The major nodded in understanding. "I actually do have plans to put that massive data storage of yours to good use by coding in and applying some extra defensive armaments on you, but... maybe you can have just as much use to the squad as a dedicated medical robot. How does that sound?"

"This role is most pleasing, yes. Thank you."

"Good, good." Kryger briefly nodded in satisfaction at Curie's way before we went right back to business. "But enough about this. We should already be out there, securing our objective. The clock's ticking, and I'd be damned if we waste any more time."

Most of the team still looked unconvinced, by the looks of their faces. Only Codsworth, Curie and Dogmeat seemed ready and willing.

"Okay," The major softened his tone this time, easing himself back into his seat. "I know I've been driving you around like dogs lately, and yes, I know you deserve some rest after all the work I've put you through. I may be in charge of where this company's heading, but that doesn't entitle me to work you like I do with enlisted men."

He drew out a resigned-sounding breath. "If you don't want to head out into the ruins tonight, that's your choice. And if I had to barge into the Triggermen Vault all by myself, then that's alright by me."

He made to stand up. "After all, this is my struggle to fight. If all goes well, I'll be back here before dawn. Wish me lu—"

Olin sighed loudly, almost as if forced.

"Major, I'd _really_ rather spend the night resting in safety as is logical, but if you truly do insist upon recklessly wading through super mutant territory, I suppose I'd make for a poor excuse for a Brotherhood scribe in allowing you to get murdered out there."

The senior scribe edged closer to the surprised Kryger, cradling her laser shotgun. "Well, should we move on?"

The major cleared his throat, standing up from his seat. "Ehem, yes, senior scribe, we should. Come, then. Let's go find Preston and head out."

"Hold it!" Piper exclaimed before the two of them could depart. She quickly extracted herself from her own seat and made her way to them. "I know the ruins around Boston much better than everyone in this table! If Kryger wants someone watching his back out there, it should be _me!"_

"I beg your pardon!" The senior scribe shot the reporter an imperious look as the latter approached. "Going by your borderline _abysmal_ performance in combat, my abilities in the field would undoubtedly see much more use in the major's service compared to yours. I advise you to stand down and leave us _soldiers_ to our work, _civilian_ _._ "

"O-ho, look who's talking!" Piper crossed her arms and returned the glare. "Did the Brotherhood's glorified pencil-pusher just call someone a civilian? All those ten-dollar words make it _so_ hard to tell when _someone_ ' _s_ being oblivious to her hypocrisy!"

A look of genuine anger briefly crossed Olin's face before it settled back to detached apathy. "I am soldier _and_ scholar both, Reporter Wright."

Kryger just ground his teeth and simmered in resentful silence as the two women started bickering once again. He swore they somehow conditioned themselves to start liking pointless arguments with each other, what with how frequently they engaged in such activities.

Codsworth moved in after them. "Why don't we all just leave with my master, then? I certainly don't mind, being incapable of exhaustion and all."

The major nodded. "Of course. Curie, are you with us? I could always use a medic, just in case."

"Of course, James." The Miss Nanny stepped up for duty. "My abilities are ever at your disposal."

Paulson grimaced and drained the last of his brandy. Standing up, he motioned for his dog to follow close. "Time to get movin', buddy."

"Bark!" The German Shepherd happily obeyed.

Kryger gave his squad a brief appraising look. "Well, looks like we're all headed the same way after all. I appreciate this, I really do." He allowed himself a smile, satisfied.

"Now... let's go find us our detective, shall we?"

* * *

"Thank you for your patronage, sir!"

Preston took the items he bought from the counter and stashed it away in one of the bags he possessed. He wasn't sure which team member it belonged to, but at this point, he couldn't bring himself to care.

By _God_ , was he tired.

"Thanks, Percy." The Minuteman offered the Mister Handy merchant a doff of his hat before turning around, lugging his multitude of bags away, and out of the light.

He couldn't believe his simple grocery errand took him almost an entire day to complete. Diamond City, despite common opinions, was very much a troubled place. Preston found that he would only take a few paces into the city before one of the locals, evidently recognizing his uniform, would accost him, telling him of their problems and imploring him to help them solve their predicaments thereafter.

Of course, being a true believer to his order's old cause, Preston set his bags down, secured them and did whatever he could to help these poor people. Over the course of the afternoon, he went out of town and assaulted a raider-occupied warehouse in order to procure some green paint for Abbot to use on the walls, helped Sheng Kowalski clear the city's water supply of debris (and nearly blew himself up after coming across a frag grenade), consoled Ellie Perkins and helped her organize some of her loose paperwork, and went over countless other mundane errands for other locals.

Being a Minuteman was involved grueling, sometimes degrading work, but by the end, Preston was sure he made Diamond City a little better for the people. The caps he earned from the jobs he finished were only a welcome added bonus.

"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?" Greeted Takahashi at his noodle stand.

"Hey." With a breathy grunt, Preston set his bags down under the seat he planned to take. "Yes, I'll have one of those white worms on a bowl, please. Oh, and I want some extra red flakes on top."

"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?" Having heard the only English word he could understand, the protectron complied with the order. He was finished within the minute.

"Thank you." Preston fished out some of the caps he was rewarded and exchanged them for the bowl he ordered. He had barely seated himself when his company, all gathered up, sauntered into his line of sight.

"Preston," Kryger greeted him first. "Piper told me you've been busy around town. How was your day?"

"Good." Preston started on his bowl as he talked. "I just need a little break here, sir, and I'll be good to go. We're heading out, aren't we?"

Kryger's brow arched up before settling back down. "Yeah... in a moment. I see you've bought what we need."

"Yep, it's all here." The Minuteman nudged one of the bags at his feet with his heel. "Food, ammo, equipment, new guns, meds and junk. All these expenses amounted to... twenty one hundred caps, more or less. That means we're down to... err," The Miniteman reached down his pocket and gave it a shake. "—sixteen caps."

"Aaaand, we're broke." Piper put her hands on her hips and let out a theatrical sigh.

"I'd rather we get rid of the caps in exchange for something we can actually use, Piper." The major went down on a knee and inspected the bags. "Alright, squad, grab your gear and get ready to move out."

The major's company wasted little time taking back their backpacks and satchels, all loaded to the brim with supplies and freshly-bought equipment.

"Check inside, and see if Preston's got us the right things." The major said, just as he opened his own pack. "We can't be too sure."

"Whoa, now." Paulson sounded pleasantly surprised to find a suppressor for his lever-action carbine inside his pack, along with three detachable laser sights for his assortment of weapons. As an added bonus, he also fished out a black, large-rimmed cowboy hat; with it, he cut a more intimidating figure.

"Sweet!" As for Piper, she found three shotgun shell holders — two were in armband form, and were designed to be strapped to both her arms for easy access, while the third holder seemed much more traditional, being meant to be attached to a gun's stock. In addition to this, she also found a wicked-looking bayonet deeper inside her pack.

"Unecessary..." Along with a second-hand reflex scope for her laser shotgun and a new AEP7 laser pistol sidearm, Olin found a tactical harness in her pack, meant to be stuffed with munitions, tools and other goods scavenged along the way — the perfect gift for a field scribe. "...but useful."

"Just what I needed." Kryger procured several modular enhancements for his own laser pistol in his pack, which included a photon jaunt agitator, a better grip and an improved short barrel. Finally, he had Preston buy him a weather-worn, dark-green combat helmet, a combat armor chestpiece worn over his uniform and under his greatcoat, and a pair of kevlar knee protectors.

"This here's for you, boy..." Paulson clapped a makeshift suit of metal armor around Dogmeat's body, which covered most of his torso nicely. "There."

"Looking good, guys." Preston set aside his finished bowl. His own pack was next to his feet, with a scoped laser musket's barrel visibly poking out into the open. As he stood to his feet, the straight-edged profile of an antiquated revolutionary sword could be seen secured to his belt, further enhancing his Minuteman appearance. "Is everyone set?"

To the chorus of affirmatives from the team, Kryger wasted no time having them march out, through the gates and back into the open. His heavily-armed, freshly-resupplied squad attracted bewildered stares from some of the officers standing guard outside, but none made an effort to warn them of the dangers that the ruins at night posed.

"It's startin' to get cold..." Paulson observed, his breath coming out of his mouth in the visible form of a cloud.

"Indeed it is," Codsworth agreed. "My thermometer suggests the temperature in the Commonwealth at night has dropped from 48 degrees the previous night to _32_ degrees tonight. Winter is coming, I'm afraid."

"Maybe we should've spent some of our caps on thicker coats." Piper lightheartedly griped.

"And better insulation." Curie added. "Advanced though it is, my chassis is not meant to filter out the cold. Clearly, I was never meant to leave the confines of the Vault."

"We'll see to that as soon as we get back to Sanctuary Hills." Kryger assured. "But for now, we're just gonna have to tough the cold out. Don't worry, I'm sure adrenaline in the blood can keep the lot of us warm."

Everyone was silent after that. For a while, the squad's surroundings were calm, almost serene in the cold blanket of night. It wasn't was only until they reached the more run-down sections of the ruined city that they inevitably passed by mutilated corpses and several bags of gore suspended in the air — the most obvious signs of nearby super mutants.

"Keep on guard, meine Soldaten." Kryger warned, indicating for his team behind him to keep low. "Stay out of the open and keep to the shadows... we're in Frankenstein's domain now."

"Meine soldaten?" Piper questioned.

"I believe it means "my soldiers", in German." When Kryger hesitated to answer, it was Curie who did.

Piper nodded and turned to Kryger. "Right, why _were_ you speaking German?"

"No reason." Kryger curtly evaded the question.

In his mind, he knew he slipped; memories of the war, leading his German-speaking troops through the ruins of PLA-held cities were slowly resurfacing as the night went on.

Several minutes passed without incident. The cold evening wind rustled some dead leaves on the pavement and made loose metal panels sticking out on some of the buildings creak eerily.

"Wait," Codsworth, who was taking point, motioned a mechadendrite, urging the team behind him to stop. "Sir, you might want to take a look at this. Hurry."

"What is it, buddy?" Kryger pushed past Preston and Paulson and briefly scanned the area beyond Codsworth. "...yes, I see it. That's a tripwire over there... which means..."

He looked up, and sure enough, he found several bundled grenades suspended in the air by a string. Closer inspection of the string revealed its connection to the tripwire up front.

"This could've ruined our night," Kryger patted Codsworth's central housing. "Looks like we're not taking this route. Good work, Codsworth."

Codsworth bobbed up and down. "My pleasure, sir."

Without further ado, Kryger led the squad through a nearby alley and away from the trap. They had barely managed to navigate their way out of the ruined path when the telltale thudding of super mutant boots made Kryger hiss out a warning, forcing them back into the shadows.

"SO HUNGRY!" One of the greenskins moaned as he dragged his sledgehammer along the ground. "THIS GUARD STUFF IS STUPID! FIST WEAK LEADER, SHOULD BE EATING HUMAN INSTEAD OF LETTING LIVE AS HOSTAGE!"

"SHUT UP. YOU STUPID!" The apparent leader of the wandering mutant patrol was quick to reply. "ALL YOU DO IS COMPLAIN!" He backhanded his subordinate across the face.

"Alright..." Kryger whispered. "They're just passing by. Stay low, and keep out of sight."

"THE HUMAN GETTING FRIENDLY WITH FIRST GENERATION OUTSIDER," Another of the mutants randomly uttered. "TOO FRIENDLY. MAYBE FIST WILL HAVE COMMONWEALTH BROTHERS THROW HIM OFF AT TOWER-TOP?"

"WHY SHOULD I CARE?" The leader shrugged his broad, muscular shoulders. "IF YOU DON'T SHUT UP, I'LL THROW _YOU_ OFF TOWER-TOP! GRAH, MOUTHY BROTHERS MAKING ME MAD! DO YOU HEAR DOG COMPLAINING EVERY TIME? DOG MAKE BETTER COMPANY!"

Olin grimaced. "Did that abomination just mention a dog?"

As if on cue, a massive greenskin hound appeared into sight, intermittently sniffing the air. It faithfully trailed after its masters for a moment before it stopped and turned the squad's way, growling savagely while baring its teeth. Dogmeat also started growling, as if he knew a confrontation was assured.

"HMH?" One of the greenskins took notice of the mutant hound's behavior. "BROTHERS, LOOK. DOG SMELL SOMETHING."

"So much for stealth." Kryger drew his pistol and shocksabre. Turning to his team, he said, "Fireteams Baker and Charlie, mass here and hold position; get ready to repel an assault. Able will go around the back and flank the enemy as they advance."

"Been dyin' to try this out." Paulson pulled out his lever-action carbine and quickly attached his new suppressor and laser sight to the barrel.

"Ooh, my first encounter with the fabled Commonwealth strain of super mutant! How exciting it will be to extract valuable data from this!" Curie enthusiastically exclaimed, though in a hushed voice. "Just to be clear, which "fireteam" am I to belong to?"

Kryger briefly examined the squad. Fireteam Charlie still had one opening, but he doubted that Olin would appreciate having another robot in her fireteam.

"You're with us." He said, rather simply. "Come on, let's move it up."

The major, the reporter and the Miss Nanny parted ways with the rest of the team before surreptitiously making their way back along the alley. It didn't take them long to position themselves approximately behind where the super mutants would advance to, should they decide to attack.

"You know how to use that?" Piper turned to find Kryger giving the bayonet on her shotgun a dubious look.

"Green, it's just a knife stuck to the end of my gun." Piper waved him off. "How complicated can it be beyond stabbing things that get too close?"

Kryger shook his head at her. "Stabbing things can get surprisingly complicated in the middle of a fight, Ms. Wright." He then looked to his other companion. "Ready, Curie?"

"My point-defense laser emitter prepared for discharge, monsieur. Targeting parameters and friend/foe system set. I am as ready as I'll ever be... shall we proceed?"

The major looked around. "As soon as we hear—"

Loud gunfire, distant shouting and muted explosions interrupted him. Among the sounds of combat, one ecstatic wail could be clearly discerned from all the rest.

"HUMANS! HAH HAH, FINALLY! WE EAT GOOD TONIGHT, BROTHERS!"

"That's our cue! Move out!" Kryger quickly bolted into the open, and he was quickly followed by the rest of his fireteam. Once there, the major was proven correct when Able found themselves a short distance directly behind the attacking mutant patrol, in the perfect position to strike.

Taking aim with his pistol, Kryger squeezed the trigger and shot the nearest mutant at the back of his head, incinerating it. Running up to his next victim, the major jumped back and smoothly evaded a clumsy sledgehammer swipe from his foe, which he then quickly followed up by hip-firing a couple of shots into the offending mutant's torso at point-blank range. The major then surged back up against the reeling mutant, hoisted his blade above his head and swiftly decapitated his foe with a horizontal slash.

As the mutant's headless remains fell to earth, Kryger's ears picked up the mutant hound barking and snarling at him from behind. Steadying himself into a defensive stance, he managed to turn around just in time to get painfully tackled to the ground by sixty kilos of pure mutant hound muscle, knocking his sabre from out of his hand. Pinned by the rabid creature with very little means of fighting back, the major reached out, gripping the creature by the head in a desperate effort to push it off of him.

The mutant hound snarled and tried to lunge for the major's neck from above, clearly eager to clench its jaws around his throat. The major continued to struggle in vain against the creature for another moment, when blessed relief came in the form of an armored Dogmeat. With a defeaning bark, the German Shepherd rammed his ironclad body against the distracted hound, tackling it off Kryger's body.

Gasping for air and covered in spittle, Kryger picked himself up to his feet and took up his pistol with both gloved hands. Dogmeat, in a surprising show of strength and intelligence, buried his jaws around the rabid, mutated hound's neck, then forcefully dragged it around with his teeth to expose its unprotected side to Kryger. With little hesitation, the major aimed down the sights and pulled the trigger several times, blasting holes the size of baseballs into the beast's hide.

The area fell completely silent after the hound's snarling stopped. Seven mutants were killed in the ambush, all in all — clearly, it was only a small patrol the squad took down.

"Do you require medical assistance, major?" Curie floated up to Kryger while the latter scooped up his sabre from the ground.

"No, I'm good." He shook his head as he caught up on his breath. "So, what do you think of this?" He gestured at the dead mutant bodies.

"Regrettable, but nonetheless necessary." She responded. "You should know that I have been analyzing the mutants as we fought; I believe with enough data safely compiled, I may be able to provide you with better targeting solutions for cleaner, much faster kills."

The major nodded. "Keep at it, then. We might be in for a couple more fights like this."

Slowly, the rest of the team slowly marched up into view. Olin quickly got to work scavenging through the corpses for anything useful, while Paulson stood guard close to her. It was Preston who broke the silence.

"Sir, I have a request," He started, somewhat reluctantly. "Hear me out?"

Kryger shrugged. "Lay it on me, Preston."

"Thanks," The Minuteman nodded, shouldering his laser musket. "You heard one of those greenskins talking about a hostage, right? If we could figure out exactly where these guys came from, we might be able to get this hostage to safety."

"I do not think this is wise." Olin walked up to them. "We have our own hostage to secure. We must try not to get distracted from our true objective."

"Blondie here's right," Paulson chimed in. "Doin' heroics and rescuin' folks from muties is nice an' all, but the Triggermen ain't gonna wait for us to catch up. Best we just get this Valentine outta that Vault and back into his office as quick as we can."

"I can't believe you guys." Piper frowned, glaring at Olin and Paulson. "Are you _seriously_ thinking of letting some poor schmuck get ripped apart and eaten by Frankensteins? We should do _something_ , at least!"

Kryger considered his options. If this second rescue attempt was made, it would cost the squad much more time than he envisioned, and there was no guarantee that the super mutant hostage would even be _alive_.

Before he could reach a decision, is pip-boy briefly started churning out static — indicative of a new radio transmission being found. Arching his brow, the major put up his wrist-mounted computer, highlighted the new frequency and selected it to start broadcasting for the squad to hear.

"Help! Or "mayday"... or _whatever_ it is one says on a radio!" A man's voice, filtered through a synthetic vocalizer, started streaming through Kryger's pip-boy. Strangely, it had an unsubtle air of culture and refinement to it, as if it belonged to someone from the upper-classes of society.

"My name... is Goodman. Rex Julius Goodman." The voice continued, somewhat dramatically. "I'm being held _prisoner_ on the top of Trinity Tower! I think the super mutants plan on _eating_ me... and _soon!"_ Kryger noted how Rex Goodman sounded like he was narrating a play, instead of broadcasting a distress call.

"I'm sending this to repeat, and... oh, SHIT!" In that instant, all pretense of sophistication from the man dissipated. "Gotta sign off! They're COMING!"

The transmission abruptly cut before looping itself.

The major took in a lungful and exhaled. "Trinity Tower's the tallest building in Boston — when I was little, my parents used to take me there to see the observation deck at the top floor. It's been a while, but I think I still remember how the floors go."

He paused to let his words sink in. "If we proceed to the Tower _right now_ , we can fight our way along the floors and bust Goodman out of there in two hours. By then, we'll still have time to grab Valentine and get back to Diamond City before the sun's up. Let's get moving."

Everyone except Olin and Paulson seemed to be in favor of the decision. To her credit, Olin merely showed her disapproval with a faint grimace, and Paulson only shrugged before marching onward with the rest of the squad.

For most of the next hour, the squad carefully navigated the ruined Boston streets, sticking to the shadows of the intact buildings overhead and evading super mutant patrols they came across. Every now and then they had to make their way around the myriad of traps the mutants set in their path while making sure they weren't spotted doing so.

After another five minutes spent marching, Rex Goodman's distress transmission had grown stronger, hinting at his much closer presence. Sure enough, their destination lied only a few more blocks forward.

"There. That's where we go in." Kryger indicated at the Trinity Tower entrance as the squad arrived.

Strong feelings of melancholy hit him as his eyes surveyed the abandoned structure's familiar minimalistic architecture, which made it look exactly like a crystalline tower made entirely out of blue reflective glass. For a brief moment that nonetheless seemed to drag on for hours, Kryger viewed the Trinity Tower through a child's unsullied eyes — standing tall and proud as it stretched upward into the skies, much like a magnificent cerulean blade that pierced the heavens above. Truly, it was a testament to American architectural ingenuity; there was nothing else like it in the world.

Then that moment ended, giving way to reality. The Tower's shining glass panes weren't there anymore, exposing the building's crumbling innards for all of Boston to see. Groups of wandering super mutants armed to the teeth could be spied wandering the floors, patiently waiting for the next batch of lackwitted would-be rescuers to kill.

"Right," Kryger loaded fresh cells into his pistol. "Storm the building. Get to the top floor and extract Goodman. Shoot everything that gets in our way."

* * *

 _Autor napomene i odricanje:_

Hey guys, I'm back! Well... for now, at least. I still have a lot of work and duties to tend to in the real world. At first I was reduced from using a computer down to my old iPad to type, but my company says I can't do personal business on it anymore. At this point, I'm using my tiny, tiny Galaxy smartphone to type.

Not the most convenient device to publish chapters, I know.

Just FYI, this is a truncated version of a much, much larger chapter that I originally planned to release in full. The other bits (that I plan to release as a new chapter) would be about recruiting Nick and Strong to the team... much to Olin's dismay. Also, I did plenty of hefty changes to Strong's background (lots and lots of thanks to TR4PP3R for the ideas, by the way. They're top-notch, in my opinion), but it shouldn't derail him too much from his old self in-game.

As for my other, grander plans, you should keep in mind that I plan to include rebuilt European powers in this story. Already, Ronto (a canon settlement in Canada mentioned by Ashur from The Pitt) has capitulated to one such power... and it plans to head further south into pre-war American lines...

Well, that's it for me today. I'll reply to my month-old PMs much later today because I should _really_ be getting back to work.

Here's the disclaimer:

The Fallout franchise is property of Bethesda Softworks LLC. All rights reserved.


	11. Extraction, Pt II

**This story is being written by different person from now on. I put more details at the author's notes if anyone wants to know more. Actually, I recommend reading it first before getting on with the chapter proper.**

 **Thank you.**

* * *

 **Meanwhile, on the top floor...**

Rex Julius Goodman. Brilliant actor. Talented thespian. Full-time gentleman and part-time rogue-slash-adventurer.

Also a complete buffoon, according to the super mutants he had unwisely hoped to befriend. He was astounded by the judgement at first; he did not think them capable of recognizing and giving dues to an act of utter foolishness.

"Ah, wind..." He leaned in close against the shutters that served as his prison cell's walls. "My old friend. How fare you this fine evening?"

The wind whistled against the shutters like it always did. Sometimes, Rex could make it out speaking words to him, but he chalked it up to his mind slowly going insane from boredom and isolation.

While he did have his super mutant guards for company, he could barely hold up a coherent conversation with them for a quarter of a minute before they inevitably got bored, and his only truly decent company — a first-generation mutant outsider from California named Strong — was currently being punished by the mutant leader Fist, supposedly for the crime of spending too much time with their human hostage.

"Dear _God_ , do I _need_ a shave..." Rex appraised himself through his pocket mirror. "Maybe I'll—"

A faint burst of extended gunfire shook the man out of his thoughts. Setting his mirror down, Rex ambled up close to his prison cell's locked exit, hoping his guards weren't there. Unfortunately for him, bewildered as they were from the sounds coming from the lower floors, they were still standing by beyond his door.

"MAYBE MORE HUMANS COME TO TRY RESCUE REX." One of the guards elbowed his comrade. "HAH HA, STUPID HUMANS. THEY FALL FOR TRICK EVERY TIME."

During his first few days in super mutant captivity, Rex was delighted to discover a working radio hidden in his room. Unfortunately for him, the greenskins knew about the device, and were secretly counting on him to make an emergency broadcast for would-be rescuers in the Commonwealth to hear. Once he was done with his message, Fist had his underlings force themselves into Rex's room to take his radio away, so he couldn't turn it off. From then on, the mutants had been using his broadcast to lure more unsuspecting humans into their lair.

"SHUT UP! FIST COMING!" The other guard exclaimed.

Rex instinctively backed away from the door. Through the slits, he spied the mutant leader and his mute second-in-command dragging a third, unconscious mutant along the floor. Through his skin's darker green shade, Rex was able to tell the mutant apart from his brighter-skinned brothers as the ones called Strong, his only super mutant sympathizer in the Tower.

"PUT HIM IN THE BOX. HE STILL NOT LEARN HIS LESSON." Fist commanded the guards, who quickly scrambled to do as they were ordered. "THERE ARE FEW HUMANS AT LOWER FLOORS. THEY ALREADY KILLED THE WORTHLESS SENTRIES I POSTED."

"BOSS, CAN WE GO DOWN AND FIGHT? THIS GUARD STUFF IS SO _BORING!_ "

"NO. YOU STAY PUT AND GUARD REX. MOUTHY HUMAN TOO VALUABLE TO LOSE. HE BRING US PLENTY OF GULLIBLE HUMANS TO EAT." Fist started looking around for something. "GRAH, NOW WHERE IS MY MINIGUN? DIDN'T I TELL YOU LUGNUTS NOT TO TOUCH IT?"

"DON'T WORRY, BOSS! IT SAFE RIGHT HERE!" Rex gasped as he beheld the massive hand-held support weapon one of the mutants cradled in his arms for his leader to take.

"PERFECT." Fist took hold of his gun from his underling and affectionately stroked its rotating barrels. "KEEP GUARD, BROTHERS. I MUST GO DOWN AND COMMAND THE AMBUSH."

Fist departed with his second-in-command to the sound of Rex's guards complaining among themselves.

"WHY DO WE ALWAYS GET LEFT OUT OF AM-BOOSH?" One of one of them grumbled as he hauled Strong over to Rex's cell. "THIS IS STUPID! WE SHOULD BE OUT THERE KILLING!"

Rex backed away as the mutant opened his cell door with a special key. With a disdainful grunt, he tossed Strong's limp body into the cell. "HE IS NO BROTHER OF OURS!"

Rex bent down over Strong as the guard closed his door shut behind him.

"Strong, my friend!" He tried to put the mutant to a sitting position, but found that his weight combined with his improvised scrap armor proved too heavy for him. "Speak to me! Are you alright?"

"...uurgh," Strong slowly came to. His entire face was bloated and bloody, and his jaw seemed to be completely dislocated. "Hhrahh. Shtronk alwaysh knewh... Fisht not brave enuff t' kill Shtronk himshelf..."

"Easy there, greenskin." Rex helped Strong to sit with his back behind a wall. "Your mouth is swollen, and your jaw doesn't look to be in alignment. You should rest and wait for your body to heal."

"Muh jawh?" Strong seemed briefly puzzled. He then reached out with his green, meaty hands and swiftly snapped his jaw back into place, re-aligning it with a sickening crack. "There... should be fine nowh..."

Rex tried to keep his face from showing his revulsion. "Yes, your speech has improved somewhat, but the swelling remains."

"Face will heal within minute. Human no need worry about Stronk," Strong crossed his muscular arms, making the super mutant equivalent of a pout.

"Sho, what doesh Rex Goobman think we do nowh? Fisht not look happy. Stronk think he finally eat human and throwh Stronk off rooftop. Rex and Stronk die, milk of human kindness losht to brothers forever. Is very shad day for all shuper mutants."

"Like you said, there's no need to worry." Rex sat up against the wall beside Strong. "We have one chance for freedom yet, and it lies with the humans making their way below us. If they succeed against Fist's attempts to kill them, we might find this... milk of human kindness just yet, friend."

Rex was proud of Strong's willingness to listen to his attempts at giving the super mutants some culture and education, but he still couldn't quite iron out his belief of the supposed "milk of human kindness". He suspected Strong took his reading of Shakespeare's Macbeth much too literally, believing this "milk" was the reason for human success.

"Then we wait for humans." Strong shut his eyes. "Fisht not shtupid. Humans likely to die, but maybe theshe humans different. We'll shee."

"Indeed." Rex, on the other hand, kept his eyes open. "We'll see."

Thirty minutes passed by with little incident. The guards outside started playing with grenades and rockets, using them for juggling and other dangerous acts to amuse themselves. Rex was beginning to suspect their rescuers failed, when Fist came stomping back into view — bloodied and his body pockmarked with bloody holes and burn marks. His mute second-in-command, whom the other mutants sometimes joked to be Fist's own green shadow, was suspiciously nowhere to be seen.

"THE AMBUSH... HAS _FAILED!_ " Fist declared in alarm, jolting the guards awake from their monotonous watch. "OUR BROTHERS WERE SLAUGHTERED... I SAW IT WITH MY OWN EYES... A HUMAN IN A _GREEN_ _COAT_ LEADS THEM!"

The mutants let out a collective gasp in shock. Rex rolled his eyes and Strong, being an outsider among the mutants, struggled to make sense of things.

"COULD IT BE? IS IT THE SAME GREENCOAT THAT KILLED BOSS BEHEMOTH JANICE?"

"IT MUST BE!" Fist all but shouted — not in fear, but fury. "BROTHERS, WE CANNOT HOPE TO KILL THE GREENCOAT TONIGHT! WE LOST TOO MANY! WE MUST RETREAT, TO GATHER MORE WARRIORS!"

"GREENCOAT MUST PAY FOR HELPING STUPID METALHEADS, BUT FIRST, WE FLEE!"

"YES, BROTHER! FLEE TO FIGHT ANOTHER DAY! QUICKLY, MY KIN, TO THE LIFT!"

Rex and Strong watched from inside their cell in complete bafflement as Fist and his underlings moved out of sight, presumably to take the lift down from Trinity Tower. Fist was in such a hurry to leave, that he decided to drop his minigun to get rid of excess weight.

"That... was unexpected." Rex stood up. He inspected the area beyond his door through the viewing slits, and indeed, found no sign of his captors. Fist had indeed fled a seemingly superior foe.

"Strong does not understand." Rex's mutant companion also moved up to take a look outside. "What is "greencoat"? Strong thought Fist too stupid to fear anything."

"I don't have a clue, Strong." The man admitted, turning to the mutant with a shake of his head. "But we should hope our rescuers prove friendly. If they can make someone like Fist flee from a battle, I'd hate to be the object of their wrath."

* * *

 **Meanwhile...**

"Ain't nothin' to see in these parts."

"Yep, no Frankensteins in sight here."

"My short-range scanners detect no movement from our foes in this area. Perhaps they already left, commandant?"

"All clear around here, no signs of greenskin filth thus far."

"Hm, where the bloody hell did the rotters all go?"

As most of the team searched around in vain for any more mutants to kill, Kryger sheathed his bloodied sabre, holstered his pistol and frowned. One moment his squad was beset from all sides by waves upon waves of super mutants while their leader taunted them over the intercom, and in another, they seemed to have completely disappeared from sight, as if they simply vanished from existence.

"Squad, abandon positions and stack up on me." He ordered, taking the time to ingest a packet of Rad-Away to clear the roads he received from a particularly close brush with another mutant hound.

"So, what's the game plan now, Green?" Piper cheerily inquired.

He shrugged, disposing of the empty packet. "Take five for now."

As the team went off to find themselves a place to put up their feet and rest up for a while, the major consulted the squad's medic. "See no movement? Nothing at all?"

"Strange, no?" Curie waved a mechadendrite. "According to my scans, discounting small animals such as mice and small insects, the upper floors show enough life signs for two profiles. I believe one of these profiles belong to Rex Goodman."

The major nodded. "Good to know he's still alive. Can you send this data to my pip-boy? It'd be useful to check up on it with just a look on my wrist."

Curie seemed confused. "Forgive me, but I am not sure how to do this."

Kryger was nonplussed. "Check your subroutines. While you were in sleep mode, I modified some of your systems to accommodate a data-transferral feature, the same as what Olin installed on Codsworth. This should allow both of you to stream bursts of data straight to my pip-boy, provided there's no local interference."

Curie only took an instant to figure out what the major was going on about. "Ah, yes. Très bien, I see it now."

The pip-boy pinged its pre-set notification sound, alerting Kryger to a recently-made data transfer.

"Well?" The Miss Nanny leaned in. "Is it successful?"

"With flying colors." Kryger smiled faintly. "I can see where Goodman and our mystery profile would be, assuming your scan was accurate."

"Superb!" Curie seemed delighted. "Now that we are better prepared, should we get moving now? Five minutes have already passed, I should say."

"Thanks for reminding me." The major nodded, his smile fading.

He turned to the squad, who all looked to be just in the process of getting themselves comfortable. "Alright, people, we've rested enough. Pack up and move on out, we shouldn't keep Mr. Goodman waiting."

The group of eight shouldered their arms and continued traversing the now-abandoned structure. They passed through empty hallways and unoccupied rooms; the only resistance they ever met with amounted to a couple of abandoned traps and three active sentry turrets, which were quickly disarmed and dispatched, respectively.

After climbing up the penultimate floor's collapsed ceiling, the squad finally managed to reach Rex Goodman's supposed whereabouts. Kryger ordered his squad to split off into fireteams and advance cautiously while he scanned the room for non-mutant threats along with Codsworth and Curie.

"No hostile turrets or traps in sight." The major let down his pistol, pointing it to the ground. "Right, let's get this over with."

Upon reaching the cell proper, the squad found a well-dressed but badly-groomed man standing inside, tentatively waiting for his freedom, from the expectant look on his face.

"Good beneficent bard, you must be our rescuers!" The man, likely Rex Goodman, smiled and adjusted his tie as the squad regrouped. "I must say, you are the first to make it to my infernal prison — the greenskins have gone and ate everyone who responded to my signal before..."

Kryger grunted and made to open the door, but it wouldn't budge to his touch. The mutants had locked it tight.

"Oh," Goodman scratched his head. "The key must be by a chest a little to your left. I saw my guards—"

"I advise you to stand back, Mr. Goodman." The major drew his pulsing sabre from its scabbard with a sharp electric crackle, its length noticeably drenched in viscous mutant blood.

Goodman complied meekly. Unexpectedly, Kryger did not dispose of the door with a great, heavy-handed cleave. Rather, he merely socketed its length down the pin tumbler lock, using the immense amounts of energy generated by the blade's internal tesla coils to melt it completely down in a manner that looked a lot like welding.

"What an astounding weapon! Beautiful and elegant, yet versatile and deadly! Truly, a weapon befitting a conquering hero!" If he wasn't trying to avert his eyes from the blinding sparks, Goodman would've been marveling openly at the sight. "

With the lock out of the picture, sure enough, a single kick was enough to get the door to open wide, allowing access to the team.

"Kindly step outside with your hands behind your head, sir." Kryger firmly requested, staring down the man.

Goodman immediately did as he was told. "Well, I can't fault you for being overly cautious, what with the environment we live in. Not to worry, though, I may have gone as scruffy as your average wasteland psychopath during my extended captivity, but I assure you that I mean you and your comrades no harm, mister...?"

"Kryger." The major nonchalantly introduced himself. "Now that we're properly acquainted, I need you to tell your friend to stop hiding and come on out. We know you're not alone."

"Wh-what?" Goodman's refined facade faltered for a bit. "I... I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. Kryger. My friend is... quite different, compared to you and I."

The major narrowed his brows. "And how is that so, Mr. Goodman?"

Goodman hesitated to start. "Well... for a start, he's... well, not human."

And at that moment, Olin's mask of quiet indifference vanished. "Then _enlighten_ us, citizen, just _what_ kind of hideous, abominable blight on mankind is your "friend"?"

Goodman seemed appalled at the sudden hostility, but he regained his senses surprisingly quickly. "My friend might indeed be quite hideous in appearance, but I assure you, fair stranger, a blight on humanity he is not. I know some mistrust may be warranted because of the actions of his kind, but I've seen the depths of his soul, and—"

"This is not a play. There are no such things as souls." Olin snapped, interrupting the man. "Show us this creature," She hoisted her laser shotgun, cocking it. "It must purged from—"

Kryger suddenly took the senior scribe's gun by the barrel and forced it down. "There won't be any purging tonight, senior scribe. Stand down."

Olin's gaze shifted to Kryger, her hard, unfeeling expression hadn't changed. "Do as you must, major, but as a member of the Brotherhood, it is my _duty_ to cleanse any and all inhuman filth... whatever grotesque forms they might take!"

"Stupid yellow lady talk too much." A hulking super mutant with a bloodied, slightly swollen face and a skin a shade darker than the usual ones emerged from the shadows of Goodman's cell, much to the group's alarm. "Go ahead and try to hurt Strong. You only make big mistake."

Before Olin could even say a word, Kryger stopped her with the harshest glare he could muster.

"Don't even think about it. Let _me_ handle this, Olin." The major lightly pushed the senior scribe back as he let go of her gun. Steadying himself, Kryger resolved to not let anyone be shot without his consent that night.

"Well... this _friend_ of yours hasn't tried to attack us thus far, Mr. Goodman," Kryger carefully started around the edges. "Tell me, is he going to stay that way?"

"Yes, of course. Strong is completely harmless..." Goodman assured. "...well, far from harmless, actually, but he means us humans no harm. You see, Mr. Kryger, Strong isn't as focused on humanity's destruction like most of his brothers, but rather—"

"Strong want find milk of human kindness." The super mutant, apparently called Strong, had said in his distinctive, sandpaper-like voice. "Mack Beth said milk contain power of humans. Strong want drink this milk so he can have success like human! Strong will be unstoppable!"

Goodman squared his shoulders and meekly smiled. "He took my reading of Shakespeare... a little too enthusiastically. Ever since I turned him over to my side, Strong has been looking for his... milk... ever since. He very rarely harmed or eaten anyone unfortunate enough to be dragged by Fist and his minions into the tower, even."

"So you're telling me," Kryger had a gloved hand to his chin, looking at both Goodman and Strong intently. "Besides the occasional snack, this greenskin's on our side?"

"Better to die fighting brothers than fighting humans." Strong confirmed, nodding fiercely.

Kryger, upon hearing those words, chose to seize the moment before Olin could react. "The Commonwealth is a pretty big place, Strong. Finding the milk of human kindness is gonna take you months if you're doing it all by yourself."

"Strong not alone! Strong has Rex Goodman to help him!" The mutant said.

Goodman sighed. "Sorry to let you down, friend, but this experience made me a bit more cautious when traversing the wastes. I'm afraid I cannot accompany you — I must return to my friends and continue with the career I left behind."

Strong quickly got over his surprise. "Bah! Strong no need Rex to find milk! Will find other humans!" He paused, his face scrunched up in intense thinking.

Then suddenly, the mutant's face brightened up, as if a door in his mind had just been held open for him. "Strong has idea!" Slowly, he inclined his head to look at Kryger's company.

"Oh, heavens, please no..." Olin pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, shaking her head in dismay.

"Strong can find milk while following humans!" The mutant exclaimed, as though the idea was obvious all along.

Paulson tilted his hat upward and inclined a brow. "Did y'all jus' hear what the mutie just said? I think he wants to come along with us." Dogmeat barked in agreement with his master.

"I admit, it might seem unwise to have our very own super mutant following us around, especially whenever we're planning to head inside settlements such as Diamond City," Codsworth mused aloud. "But another gun on our side during battle is always welcome indeed."

"Having a Frankenstein around in the group's gonna take a lot of getting used to," Piper said. "But then again, I DO need someone to carry my extra gear around..."

"The opportunity to study a Commonwealth super mutant up close is most exciting!" Curie giddily exclaimed. "I believe Monsieur Strong will be of great use to us in our little group!"

"Strong, huh. He's... different... from the other mutants we've run across, isn't he?" Preston noted. "We could always use more help, so I'm not going to refuse his offer if I'm in charge. I'd still give him a wide berth, however."

Olin was silent, looking utterly displeased and sour at the way the major ran things.

Kryger placed a hand on the scribe's shoulder and gave her an empathic look. "I know this goes against what the Brotherhood stands for, but we're going to keep looking around the wastes for my son, the squad will need every soldier it can get."

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice so as to not be heard by anyone else. "...if it makes you feel any better, do know that I'll come visit Elder Maxson myself after we're done with this mission — see the Brotherhood for myself."

Kryger leaned back, satisfied by the renewed look of hope in Olin's eyes. "With Strong on our side, we'll get to the end of this journey a lot faster without him. Think about it."

"...but will you stay?" Olin finally spoke.

Kryger looked uncertain. "We'll see when we get to that point in time."

The senior scribe sighed. "If we _ever_ get to that point in time. Very well, I'll... restrain myself and defer to your leadership when it comes to recruiting... these... these _things-_ " She briefly paused to glare at Strong. "-into our company from now on."

"Good to hear." The major retracted his hand and nodded. Turning to look at his prospective super mutant recruit, he said, "Let's get going then, Strong. First, though, I need you to agree with a few conditions..."

"What is cone-dish-ons? Strong no like big words."

Kryger was silent, letting that sink in for a couple of seconds. "...o-kay. Getting right to the point, while you're with us, I need you to stop eating human flesh."

Strong seemed mildly displeased at this. "Liver and heart taste good... but Strong can live without them. Strong eat like human from now on."

"Thank you." The major let out a breath. "I also need you to follow my orders — do what I tell you to do _precisely_ when I tell you to do so. The squad needs brute force, but we also need finesse and subtlety, you understand?"

"Fancy human uses too many big words. Strong no understand." Strong grimaced. "Just tell Strong you boss, and Strong follow. He follow the Master once... and... and..." The mutant's face scrunched up, as if he was trying very hard to remember something. "—also someone else. Strong remember following someone before the Master... someone with many tongues..."

"A Frankenstein followin' a centaur?" Paulson mused. "Ain't it, y'know, the other way 'round?"

Kryger shook his head. "This isn't important. Now that Strong's agreed to follow orders, we just need to find a weapon for him."

"Perhaps this minigun on the floor can serve well enough in that department, sir?" Codsworth trained a mechadendrite on the object in question.

Strong grinned as he walked over and picked up the gun, donning the requisite ammo backpack as he did so. "Fist stupid to left good weapon behind. He remember this night when Strong kill him with own minigun."

"Quite," Kryger disinterestedly nodded. "Well, Mr. Goodman, this is the part where we go on our own paths. Unless, of course, you'd like to come with us? More people means more safety and strength, I should say."

"Ah, I appreciate the offer, sir, I really do..." Goodman scratched the back of his neck. "...but this experience has left me a bit sour on adventuring for a while. Perhaps some other time I'll take it, but for now, I could _really_ use a shave and a nice bath. Heavens, I'm sure I smell like a latrine to you."

Kryger shrugged and nodded. "In that case, be safe on your way then. Do try to think before you leap next time, alright?"

"Oh ho, I never would have met Strong if I did just that, but... perhaps you got a point there." Goodman smirked and extended his hand, which the major shook briefly. "Fare you well, good sir, and good luck on whatever it is you're trying to accomplish out here."

And with all that said, Kryger's company departed from the tower through the way they came from while Goodman slipped into the night.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** I don't know if people still read this story, but I'm going to assume there are a dozen of them, at least. That's good enough for me.

I should introduce myself: I wrote this chapter myself, but I'm not the author of the story itself; I'm only the proofreader. Needless to say, the original Unusual Dispentry would no longer be with us, citing his increasingly busy schedule and family issues. I have no idea if I could ever replicate his writing style, or implement his ideas as he intended them, but do know that I tried my hardest, and that, for now at least, I intend to stay.

Please let me know if I blended this chapter well with the others, and tell me how I can emulate UD's style even better. Thanks again.


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